Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
“Maximillian.” Pen grinned. “Pompous name for a pompous title.”
Ellie cleared her throat, glancing at me. “Well, if you have anything else I can slip into a story, feel free to share. Inspiration can be hard to come by sometimes.”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty.” My cousin’s eyes glittered with mischief. “I work here six days a week. I hear a lot.”
Ellie dug into her bag and pulled out a few cards. “It’s not my number, but if you email me, I’ll give you my number.” She handed one over.
Penny took it, laughing, then showed it to me. “This is the kind of awkward chat up line you’d use.”
“I don’t use chat up lines,” I said dryly.
Ellie’s eyes widened. “It’s not a chat up line. I’m not—I mean.” She swallowed. “My brother’s gay. I’m not.”
Pen smirked. “Damn it, there you go breaking my heart.”
“Penny,” I warned her.
She laughed, putting Ellie’s card in her back pocket. “I didn’t take it that way. And I’m not, either. Actually, my brother’s also gay, and if I came out, my mother would have a heart attack at not getting any grandkids. I’m as straight as a ruler.”
I finished my beer. “Don’t they make bendy rulers?”
“Will you shut up?” Pen threw a towel at me.
I laughed.
“Such a dick,” she muttered, looking at Ellie. “Don’t worry, I’m much nicer than he is.”
Ellie put thirty pounds on the bar and slid it over to Pen, eyeing me with a wry twist of her lips and a quirk of her left eyebrow. “That’s not exactly hard, is it?”
I was about to remind her who’d climbed a ten-foot-tall stack of hay bales to fetch her cat this morning, but she spun on her heel and walked towards the door, leaving me staring after her.
Fuck.
That woman was gorgeous.
Irritating, but gorgeous.
Pen reached over and pushed on my chin from beneath. “Close that, or you’ll catch flies.”
I batted away her hand. “Cut that shit out.”
“You’re the one staring at her like she’s a bottle of water in the desert.” She swiped the bank notes from the top of the bar and spun to ring up what I assumed was Ellie’s bill.
If not, it was a very expensive bit of gossip.
“Again, cut that shit out,” I said, putting money of my own down.
“Oh, aren’t you nice?” She grinned. “Thanks. And be nice to her. I like her.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t do as you say, isn’t it?” I slid off the stool.
“You know, Max, it wouldn’t kill you to—”
“Do not finish that sentence, Penelope Rose.”
She pressed her lips into a flat line. “I deserved that.”
“Glad we agree.” I leant forward with a smirk. “Keep the change.”
She threw the expression right back at me. “I was going to.”
CHAPTER TEN
ELLIE
A Truce
I hit send on the email to my agent and editor and collapsed back into my chair with a heaving sigh.
I did it. Somehow, I’d hit that five-chapter deadline Abby had sent, and even I knew I’d hit it out of the park.
I just hated that I’d envisioned fucking Max as the hero for every word and that I would do the same thing for the next sixty thousand or so words I had to write. He was grumpy and grouchy and a giant miserable git, but he was a very handsome miserable git.
Apparently, my muse was a miserable git.
I had to stop saying that.
I didn’t know what Max’s problem with me was. The cat aside, of course, but most people had a problem with my cat. Heck, Winston probably had a problem with himself. He was just that kind of cranky little sod, you know?
But me?
I was a ray of sunshine. I preferred to be an optimist—unless there was a crow in my house. It could be tough when things didn’t go the happy way I wanted them to, but what was my alternative?
Always expect the worst? Never be positive about anything? See the bad in everything?
No.
I was a bit too sensitive to always see darkness. I much preferred looking for the good in things, even if they didn’t work out. Chances are, that wasn’t my fault anyway, especially if it was something out of my control.
And most things were, in my experience.
I couldn’t control the traffic. If there was a traffic jam resulting in the bus being late, that wasn’t my fault.
I couldn’t control the supermarket. If there was no bread because their delivery hadn’t arrived on time, well, that sucked, but I’d survive.
I couldn’t control if a publisher bought my book. Maybe it wasn’t the book they were looking for at the time, or maybe I just wasn’t the right fit for that particular editor. And that was okay. It also wasn’t my fault—it wasn’t the editor or the publisher’s fault, either. It was just the way it was.
Those were but a few situations, of course, and the latter was far more personal to me, but if we shrugged off the things we couldn’t control as just that, I suspected people would be a lot happier in general.