The questions continue in this line until I nearly finish the bottle of wine. I blame the wine for what happens next.
“Listen up.” I clap my hands to get everyone’s attention. “It’s not some big secret why I narrate erotic romance.”
“It’s not? How disappointing,” Clove mumbles.
I ignore her. “It’s simple really. As everyone knows, I majored in drama at college. Interesting fact – tuition does not include costs for costumes unless you want to wear the costumes worn by a million students before you.” My nose scrunches in disgust. “A professor mentioned something about narration as an opportunity to practice our acting skills while earning extra cash.
I signed up on this platform. Made an audition tape and waited. I was offered a gig to narrate an erotic romance and jumped at the chance to earn some cash. The reviewers went crazy over my ‘raspy voice’, which lead other erotic romance writers to seek me out. Things kind of snowballed from there. That’s it. That’s the story. I don’t have some secret fetish for narrating erotic romance. I’m not a phone sex operator. It’s my job. Plain and simple.”
The door bangs open and Rowan stomps inside. He appears mad, and oh boy, does mad turn him from sexy to uber sexy. His lips, which I know from personal experience are soft, are turned down in a frown. He glares at me.
“What? I didn’t do anything wrong.” I lift my palms in a display of innocence and nearly fall off my chair. Oops. Didn’t do anything wrong and drank an entire bottle of wine aren’t the same thing, are they?
“Yes, they are when you should be home resting,” Rowan responds.
Shit. Am I speaking my thoughts out loud? How much did I drink?
“A bottle and you should probably stop talking now,” Moon answers.
I pretend to zip my lips and end up slumped to the side in my chair.
Rowan marches over to me and picks me up. I slap at his shoulders. “It’s not time to go home yet, Jeeves.”
“It is. You need your rest to help your bones heal.”
He carries me toward the exit of the bookstore with no effort whatsoever and I know I’m not the lightest of women. Ha! I wish. My butt alone should have its own area code.
“Stop complaining, Ashlyn,” Mom tells me. “I’d let a big, strong man like Rowan carry me around.”
“I think Dad wouldn’t be too happy about it.”
Mom winks at me. “But he’s sexy when he’s jealous.”
I groan. “Gross. Thanks, Mom. Now I have more material to discuss with my therapist.”
“Why does she constantly refer to a therapist?” Lilac asks. “She’s not actually in therapy.”
Ellery pats her arm. “It’s this thing we normal people refer to as sarcasm.”
“I don’t understand sarcasm.”
“We know!” I shout together with Juniper.
Rowan grunts at her.
“He says ‘if you’re done bonding with Ash, could you please open the door?’,” I explain.
“You can understand his grunts?” she asks, and Rowan grunts again.
“Uh oh. It’s his impatient grunt.”
She rushes to open the door. “Have a good night!”
As soon as the door shuts behind her, I shove Rowan’s shoulders. “Put me down!”
I expect him to dump me on the back of his golf cart, but he doesn’t. He lays me down with such gentleness my eyes water. Why does he have to be gentle with me and show me what I’m missing?
When we arrive at his house, I hop off the golf cart before he can stop me. He catches up to me on the way to his front door and lifts me into his arms again.