“It was delightful,” he says.
I try to hide my smile. Delightful isn’t exactly how I’d describe Assassin’s Revenge. “Big fan?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve read all the books in the series. How about you?”
“Only the last two, but I plan on catching up.” I extend my hand. “Lucy McGuffin.”
“Hoyt Daniels,” he says, shaking my ha
nd. “Nice to meet you.”
A breeze swirls through the air, catching the little hairs on the back of my neck. That’s odd, considering that we’re indoors.
“You don’t live in Whispering Bay, do you? I grew up here, and I’m pretty sure I know everyone in town. Unless … you’re a donut person?”
“Donuts?” He shudders. “No, I’ve never cared for them. All that sugar and I don’t get along. And you’re right. I don’t live here in town. I was passing through, and I heard about this wonderful opportunity. I simply couldn’t pass it up.”
“You’re lucky you got a ticket. I hear they sold out in the first hour.”
“Right place at the right time. I thought I’d stay for a couple of days and enjoy the local hospitality.”
“Then you should come to my café. The Bistro by the Beach. We make the best muffins in town. If you’re concerned about your sugar intake, no worries. I always have one low-fat, low-sugar muffin on the menu. As a matter of fact, I’m working on a vegan low-fat chocolate zucchini muffin right now. I’m on my third round, and each time they get better.” I dig into my purse and hand him a card. “First muffin is on the house.”
He looks at the card, then places it inside his suit pocket. “Thank you, Lucy. I’ll have to check it out.”
The line moves up a few people, and we move along with it. A woman’s high-pitched laugh draws my attention. Shirley is getting her book signed, and whatever this fake J.W. is saying to her has her giggling like a schoolgirl. “It appears our author has quite a way with women.”
Hoyt follows my gaze. “It appears you’re right.” He frowns for a second, then his face smooths into a smile. “Tell me more about these muffins of yours. Do you have a favorite?”
“Not really. It depends on my mood. The apple walnut cream cheese is my signature muffin, but the mango coconut is pretty popular too. And there’s the usual—lemon poppy seed, oat bran, chocolate chip, and of course, blueberry.” I mention the blueberry because most people expect it, but it’s my least favorite muffin to bake. It’s not that I dislike it. It’s just boring.
Shirley walks back with a book clutched to her chest. “Oh, Lucy! He’s just so fabulous!” She opens the book. “Look what he wrote!”
I bend down to read the inscription. In bold lettering, it says: To Shirley with the beautiful gray eyes. I enjoyed meeting you, lovely lady. Thank you for being such a loyal fan, J.W. Quicksilver.
“He thinks I have beautiful eyes!” She runs around showing the inscription to anyone who’ll look. A wave of anger nearly knocks me over. This guy isn’t just hurting Will. He’s hurting everyone who came out to see him today. He’s playing with people’s emotions, and he needs to be exposed as the worst kind of charlatan.
We inch our way closer to the man himself. The assistant, Anita, looks frazzled, directing traffic and taking credit cards and making change. I wonder if she’s in on it as well. She has to be. There’s no way she can be innocent. Brittany is helping with the transactions too, although it’s more show, because she looks as cool as a cucumber.
“Looks like we’re almost to the front of the line,” says Hoyt.
I count six people ahead of us. “Yep.” I glance back toward the bar area, where Will and Travis appear deep in conversation. What on earth could they be talking about? “So,” I say to Hoyt in an attempt to take my mind off that, “which is your favorite of J.W.’s books?”
He ponders it a moment. “I’d have to say Assassin’s Way, although they’re all very good.” He clears his throat. “You know, I don’t usually tell this to strangers, but I’m an author as well.”
The hair on my neck starts dancing a hula. It’s official. Hoyt, or whatever his name is, is a big fat liar. “What do you write?”
“Thrillers. Very similar to the Assassin series, only my heroes are Navy Seals.”
“Were you in the navy?”
“No, but I’ve done a lot of research.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s the title of one of your books?” I pull my cell phone from my purse and swipe to open up my Amazon account. Let’s see how you answer this one, buddy.
“I’m not actually published. Yet.” He pauses, then lowers his voice. “If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?”
“Considering I’ve just met you and I don’t know anyone who knows you, that probably won’t be hard.”