this man broken my heart in high school, but now he’d done it again almost ten years later by rejecting my manuscript. And he had picked up my laptop last night? My Prince Charming had turned into a toad, an editor toad, literally overnight. So not the way a fairy-tale romance should go.
Chapter Four
Taking a big long sip of coffee, I followed Brooks into the elevator and we rode in silence to the top floor to Prince & Company Publishing. I would’ve much preferred to walk as fast as I could in the opposite direction, but he had my laptop and wouldn’t relinquish it until I proved my ownership. This was so typical of him, always practical and so . . . I wanted to say boring but I couldn’t, because being with Brooks had been the most exciting time in my life.
I studied him out of the corner of my eye, remembering last night. Rumpel had been charming, funny, romantic, and gentlemanly, whereas Brooks was rude and pig-headed. The only bright side was that the muscle on the side of his jaw seemed to be working overtime. Even with his cool demeanor, I could tell he was as uncomfortable as I was. Ha!
Last night, his hair had been combed back neatly, whereas today Brooks’ hair was messy in an admittedly sexy kind of way. Then the words “unrealistic, unimaginable and unpublishable” crossed my mind, making me narrow my eyes. It was at this moment that he caught me looking. My cheeks heated, and I cleared my throat.
“I see you still haven’t figured out how to use a brush, Brooks,” I said, since it had been a standing joke between us that he was always far too busy reading to bother brushing his hair. It had been our shared love of books, which had brought us together in the first place. Ironic.
He raked his fingers through his dark locks and opened his mouth to speak when the elevator doors opened with a ping. We stepped forward and into the offices of Prince & Company. He led the way through the lobby and down a hall, stopping in front of a closed door. Then he opened it and stood back to let me through. As I passed him, I caught the unmistakable smell of last night’s cologne, and my stomach did a little flip. No-no-no! So not okay to have that reaction now that I knew Prince Charming was my ex.
“Please, have a seat,” he said.
I slid into the leather chair that sat in front of a large desk and set my empty coffee cup down. Piles of manuscripts were stacked neatly on top, but mine couldn’t still be there since he had surely shredded the pages and sent them for hamster bedding somewhere.
Unrealistic, unimaginable and unpublishable!
My shoulders tensed as I watched him place my laptop carefully on the desk. Then he sat back in his chair, studying me with those startlingly blue eyes, the same eyes that had looked into mine from behind that black mask last night. He took a pair of glasses out of his tweed jacket pocket and slipped them on, making him look like a hot book nerd.
Why was life so cruel?
“You rejected me!” I blurted.
“Rejected you?” Brooks asked, a pained look crossing his face. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose before slipping them back on. “Michelle, I’m sorry. But that was . . . what . . . ten years ago?”
“We broke up nine and a half years ago, actually, and I’m not talking about that. I mean you rejected my manuscript.”
He looked confused, his eyes scanning the largest pile of papers on his desk which I could only assume was the slush pile. So many dreams dashed, probably with his wicked words.
“What are you talking about? I haven’t even seen a manuscript from you . . .”
“My penname is Mia Mapleton. Ring any bells? Once Upon a Date?” As I told him my pen name and book title, I noticed that my leg was jiggling up and down, a habit I’d had since I was a kid and which happened when I was nervous, or annoyed. Right now, I was both.
His eyes widened as realization hit him. “Oh.”
“Is that it? Just ‘oh’? You know being a novelist is all I ever wanted to be. And when I finally write a book I’m really proud of, you just chuck it in the trash. Seems to be a habit of