“Yes, but only after it was revealed that not only was her husband alive, he was also an abusive brute.”
“True. But Johnny was the one who helped her see that. She escaped him all on her own.”
“She did.” Will began tracing a line with his finger down my collarbone and toward the opening of my jumpsuit, sending delighted shivers down my spine.
“Do you really think my eyes are like twin blue ponds, fathoms deep?”
“Yes, but they’re not the parts of you I’m most interested in. Do you remember when you screamed at me in front of everyone I know for not allowing my characters to have happy endings?”
I scoffed. “Of course I remember it. It was yesterday. And I didn’t scream at you.”
“I don’t know what other word to call it. In any case, that’s when I began to realize that you were quite unlike any other woman I’d ever met, and that I was, in fact, more than simply physically attracted to you. I’d have felt resentful about it if you hadn’t been right—and if you didn’t have such a nice arse.”
He then illustrated his affection for this part of my body by cupping his hands around it and scooping me up by it.
It took a long time to make—and eat—breakfast, because we kept stopping for kisses—and other things. It was revolting (not the breakfast. Naturally, he was an amazing cook), but the way we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I wanted to throw up at how juvenile we were behaving. Which eventually reminded me:
“When is your sister coming home from her sleepover?” I asked, a few hours later.
“That’s an odd thing to be thinking of at this particular moment.” We were back in bed after having showered together. We’d both made sure we were squeaky clean on all areas of our bodies. “And why would it be so terrible? Chloe loves you.”
“I know. But I mean, I wouldn’t want her to walk in on us. That would be awkward.”
“Oh, she won’t be home for hours,” he said, with a casual glance at the aggressively masculine digital clock. “She’s got the—” He broke off with a curse and sprang away from me.
“What?” I sat up in alarm. “What is it?”
“The festival.” Will began tearing around his bedroom, throwing on clothes—and tossing my own clothes at me. “I forgot. We’ve got to get to the book festival!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
LITTLE BRIDGE BOOK FESTIVAL ITINERARY FOR:
JO WRIGHT
Sunday, January 5, 10:00 a.m.–12:00 p.m.
- Farewell Brunch and Reading -
With Clive Dean, Jerome Jarvis, Victoria Maynard, Garrett Newcombe, Jo Wright, and Bernadette Zhang
Moderated by: Molly Hartwell Will Price
Library Auditorium
Meeeeee-OW!
“What is that ungodly noise?” Will asked as we ran up the library steps.
“My ringtone.” I’d only just remembered to turn my phone back on.
“What sort of ringtone is that? It sounds like a cat being boiled alive.”
“I will have you know that that is an official Kitty Katz ringtone made just for members of the Kitty Katz mobile fan club, and only a very select few own it.”
Will’s tone was dry. “I can see why.”
Meeeeee-OW!
“Stop being rude.” I put one hand on his broad shoulder to steady myself as I peered down at the screen of my phone and slipped my foot back into my mule, from which it had become loose, at the same time. “Twelve unread texts! Will, I think we’re in trouble.”
Will was squinting down at his own phone. “Twelve? I’ve got twenty-two. What could be happening in there?”
When we got inside the lobby, we saw that only a few people were still milling around outside the auditorium, where a brunch of coffee, tea, and “authentic Cuban breakfast foods,” like guava pastries and cheese toast, were being served from the library’s café.
“Aw,” I said. “It’s so brave of the library to allow patrons to eat inside their brand-new facility.”
“That was a bone of contention during the festival planning,” Will said. “Let me tell you—”
“Jo! There you are!”
Bernadette came clacking toward me, looking relieved. She was dressed, as usual, in the height of urban chic, this time in pleather leggings, high-heeled booties, and a hip-length cheetah-print shirt. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I’ve been trying to reach you for—” Then she saw Will. “Oh.”
“Sorry we’re late.” I wasn’t going to get into it with her, especially in front of Will, though I could tell from her ear-to-ear smile that she wanted me to. “Have things started already?”
“Uh, yeah.” Bernadette could not seem to stop smiling. “I mean, the author bus never came, so we all had to walk over here from the hotel, but—”
“I’m so sorry about that,” Will said. He was blushing as pink as the bougainvillea he’d put in the vase on my breakfast tray. “It’s all my fault.”
“I’ll say it is.” Bernadette, still smiling, was giving us both the once-over. “Jo, aren’t those the same clothes you were wearing last night?”
Now I was the one blushing. “Shut up, Bernadette.”
“No, I mean, you look good, but most of the people in there were at the party last night, so everyone is going to know. Plus, you have beard burn all over your neck.”
My hands flew instinctively to my throat. “You can see it?” I cried in horror.
Will began to look less embarrassed and more fascinated by our conversation. “What’s beard burn?”
“Do you have any moisturizer?” I asked Bernadette.
“I can look in my bag, but what you really need is—”
The doors to the auditorium burst open, releasing a buzz of sound—the room was clearly packed with eager audience members—as well as Frannie, who came hurrying out, dressed all in black and looking impatient, as usual.
“Any sign of them, Bernadette?” she asked. Then her gaze fell on Will and me. Her eyes widened. “Oh! There you are.”
I felt as mortified as if Frannie had been my own mother. “I’m so sorry, Frannie,” I said. “We just lost track of—”
“What did you do to her neck?” she demanded, glaring at Will while she threw a protective arm around me.
“Nothing!” Will looked defensive. “We just kissed! And, er—”
“It’s fine.” I didn’t think Will needed to get into any more detail. “Bernadette has some lotion.”
“Oh, here. That’s not going to work.” Frannie strode forward, undoing the purple scarf she was wearing around her throat. “You can cover it with this. And at least this way it won’t look so much like you’re wearing the exact same outfit as last night.” She tied the scarf, scented with her usual perfume—Chanel No. 5—around my neck, giving Will the stink eye the whole time. “Did you have to be quite so inconsiderate?”
“I still don’t understand what I did that was so wrong.” Will looked bewildered.