The Write Stuff (Write Stuff 1)

"Fine. I was sweet once. I think I was five or some shit like that. My sister wanted the lollipop I got when I had to get a shot and I almost thought about giving it to her."

I chuckled. "I guess it's the thought that counts..."

"Damn straight. Now stop trying to evade my question. Tell me what it is about my new model that made you all hot and bothered."

"You mean besides the obvious? How did you find him, anyway? I thought you were having problems finding someone to replace Grant when he moved to New York last month."

Olivia dipped another chip into the salsa before answering. "That's an interesting story, actually. I met him when Taylor and I went out the other night."

"You guys went to that new club down by Church Street Station, right?" I piped in, dipping my own chip into the salsa.

"That's where we met him. He moonlights as a bartender when he's not in class."

"And he models too?"

"He does now," Olivia answered. "Before you showed up this morning and made your big splash, I could already tell he was going to be a natural. I mean, the abs, right? If I wasn't in a relationship, I would have to rethink my policy about not sleeping with the models. He definitely brings a temptation to the table that none of the others have."

I took a swig of my drink, letting the frozen beverage slide down my throat before answering. "That's because all your other male models are gay. You'd have more of a chance of hooking up with Natasha than any of them."

"How right you are, Sherlock. Anyway, when we were at the bar, Taylor struck up a conversation with him. Alec was wearing a Tampa Bay Bucs shirt and you know how guys feel the need to bond over sports. I was practically drooling out of boredom by the time they hashed out the Bucs chances of making it to the World Series next year."

"Super Bowl," I corrected automatically. Born and raised with three older brothers, I knew more about sports than should have been natural. All of them were total jock heads just like my dad. I spent my adolescent years living with the smell of gym socks and Bengay. I didn't care since the majority of the time I was crushing on their friends. Of course, having three older brothers who had been ordered to watch me by our overprotective father didn't help my dating life in high school. Couple that with a naturally shy personality and it was no wonder I became an introvert. Only my brothers' closest friends knew what lay beneath my bashful surface. Although they appreciated a girl who could talk sports, they never looked at me as anything more than a kid sister.

"Who cares? Super Series, World Bowl, that's not the point. While they were busy pontificating about the future of a team neither of them play for, I was checking out Alec. He's definitely comfortable in his own skin. It didn't take much convincing to get him to agree. I think he liked the idea of earning some extra cash."

I tried to keep my cheeks from turning red, but the more Olivia talked about him, the more I seemed to blush. "He definitely has cover model looks," I squeaked out.

"Wow, you are seriously smitten," Olivia mused as the waitress returned with our food.

"Now you go with smitten? Olivia, I'm not kidding. You need to open up some contemporary romances. If you start referring to women as dames and men as gents, I'm going to stage an intervention."

"What can I say? Your books got me hooked on the historical stuff. You should be pleased."

The waitress paused as she handed over my plate. "Are you a writer?" she asked with excitement. "What kind of books do you write?"

I ducked my head, nearly choking on the chip I had just shoved in my mouth. Talking about my books with strangers was still a new experience for me. I nodded my head, since I was still coughing.

"Don't mind her," Olivia answered. "She spends half her time holed up in her apartment like a hermit while she writes. Thank goodness her books are better than her social skills." She smoothly whipped out one of the bookmarks she had designed for me from her purse. "Here you go," she added, handing the bookmark over.

"Wow. This is so exciting. I'm an avid reader, much to the displeasure of my husband. He hates it when I start reading a new book. He says I completely block him out."

Finally done coughing, I was able to agree with her. "I'm the same way. I don't get to read as much as I like now since I spend all my time writing, but there's nothing like losing yourself in the pages of an amazing book."

"Yes," she answered enthusiastically, nodding for emphasis. "I can't wait to get off work and tell my husband I served an actual author. And I will definitely pick up your book."

Explaining where to go online to find my books was always awkward for me. As an indie author, none of my titles could be found in the traditional bookstores. Olivia was much better at explaining the logistics, so I let her take over the conversation. After a few moments, the waitress had the complete lowdown with all the links to find my books. Before walking away, she asked me to sign the bookmark and took out her phone for a picture. I grudgingly agreed. Not because I wasn't appreciative. I just had no idea why someone would want a picture with me. Olivia stood from the table to do the honors. "Squeeze a little closer," she said, giving me a wink. "Okay, on three say sexy." She snapped the picture and handed over the phone to our waitress who thanked us again.

"So what else are you working on this week," I asked Olivia after swallowing a bite of my "bland quesadilla" as she referred to it. Her tastes were spicier than mine. I preferred my mouth not feel like it was set on fire.

"I have a couple covers to finish and another shoot for Michelle. She wants a paranormal vibe, so I'm going to do the shoot on Thursday night. It's supposed to be a full moon as long as the clouds behave. Do you want to go out with me and Taylor tomorrow night?"

"I'm not sure. I need to finish Wicked Lovely and get it to Hollie for edits by the twelfth."

"I thought you were almost done."

"I am, but I sorta got interrupted today."

She merely raised her eyebrow at me. "I'm not letting you lay that on me. We both know you prefer to write at night anyway."