Lachlan
I shouldn’t be here, I thought as I hovered in the aisles of a popular local bookstore, my gaze on Julia as she interacted with the hundreds of fans who’d come out to listen to her speak and get a book signed.
I should have spent the afternoon with Ethan, going over his files to see if we could find a clue we’d overlooked. Something that could help us figure out who was behind this.
But all day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Julia.
I’d initially left my mum’s house to get a break from the constant reminders of Claire and Piper. But as I drove along the island, I found myself navigating toward Waikiki, to the bookstore where Julia currently signed book after book. My hand cramped just watching her, all too familiar with what that was like.
I had no idea how popular she was. Didn’t exactly spend my days following food blogs or watching cooking shows. But when I saw the line snaking around the block, hundreds of people dying to meet her, I couldn’t help but smile with pride. More so after watching her interact with her fans the past few hours. They adored her. Were drawn to her.
How could anyone not be, especially when they saw her gorgeous smile or heard her beautiful laugh?
I certainly was.
After lingering in the self-help section longer than any reasonable person should, I noticed the line finally dying down, only one person waiting to meet Julia. I returned the book I’d been pretending to read to the shelf and made my way toward her.
As I approached, one of the employees walked up, most likely about to tell me I was too late. Then his eyes flickered with recognition. I’d hoped no one would recognize me if I wore a baseball cap and sunglasses.
Then again, that was probably why he did. If I were in a button-down shirt with my hair styled and face clean shaven, I doubted he would have given me a second glance. Instead, my current appearance wasn’t that different from how I looked on the field.
“It’s okay.” I winked. “She’s a friend.”
Dumbstruck, he simply nodded, allowing me to stand behind Julia’s last fan.
Struggling to reel in my smile as she said goodbye and thanked the woman for coming, I swiped up one of the cookbooks stacked on the display. When she turned my way, her eyes widened, lips parting.
“What are you—”
“Can you sign this for me, please?” I interrupted, placing the book on the high-top table in front of her. Grinning salaciously, I leaned forward, dropping my voice to no louder than a whisper. “I am a huge fan of your hummingbird cake.”
A blush bloomed on her cheeks, her heartfelt, addicting laughter filling the space.
God, I loved seeing her like this. Loved seeing her smile. Loved hearing her laugh. And it was even more meaningful knowing I was the source of it.
“And who shall I make it out to?” She flicked her eyes to mine, attempting to maintain the same professionalism she exhibited toward her fans.
I rested my elbow on the table and curved toward her. Her body responded to my proximity, breaths increasing, pupils dilating.
“What would you like to call me?” I murmured seductively.
“I have a few ideas.”
With a smirk, she opened to the first page, making sure to hide what she was writing. When she finished, she closed the cover, handing the book back.
I gave her a smile and cracked it open, admiring her flowing penmanship, a stark contrast to my barely legible chicken scratch.
To my favorite jellyfish expert,
If you enjoy my hummingbird cake, wait until you get a taste of my peach pie. I hear it’s quite…addicting.
Yours,
Julia
“Is that an offer, Ms. Prescott?” I asked, closing the book, gaze roaming her dress-clad body, the sweetheart neckline accentuating her chest.
She tilted her head back. “What do you think?”