While he was cleaning up, I signed my backlist for him. He left with the autographed books and a second copy of Working for the Filthy Billionaire—the one he wanted to read today.
Once I was alone, I threw myself into work. After about an hour, I got a text.
–Skye: So, are you dead?
I laughed and texted back, No.
–Lucy: I knew it.
Both of my friends seemed entirely too pleased with themselves. So I decided I should tease them.
–Me: How can you be sure it’s not the killer responding to your text?
–Skye: Because you only said no.
–Lucy: Exactly. The killer would’ve added something like how the guy was nice or hot or the food was amazing, etc. to reassure us. That’s usually how bad guys get caught. They try too hard to cover up the crime.
They knew me too well.
–Skye: Was the food good?
–Me: Yes.
Then—since I knew they would continue to question me until all their curiosity was satisfied—I sent another text.
–Me: I love you girls, but I really have to go back to writing. I gotta get at least four more chapters done today.
–Lucy
: Got it! You go, girl!
–Skye: You can do it!
Smiling, I went back to my manuscript. As long as I could maintain my production quota for each day, I’d hit the deadline. Molly and Ryan were fantastic characters, and I knew they would resonate with my readers.
They had to.
Ryan wooed Molly by making her breakfast and giving her a massage. I paused as I ended the chapter, realizing that Killian had been exceptionally sweet, and my subconscious probably recognized that even if I hadn’t wanted to admit it.
Wonder what he would do next if he were in Ryan’s shoes…
Stop thinking about Killian. The book is about Ryan and Molly!
Shit. I gently slapped myself to pull out of the ridiculous daydream. Ryan wasn’t anything like my neighbor, and I shouldn’t confuse the two.
Must. Focus. On. My. Couple!
When I was finally done, I closed the laptop and placed it on the coffee table. I tried to get up, then plopped back on the sofa with a soft groan. Ow… My damned back. My vertebrae seemed to be permanently set in the slightly rounded position I’d been in for hours, and they did not want to move.
I checked the time. Five thirty. Since I’d finished the day’s word count, I needed to give myself a break and recharge. In case tomorrow didn’t go as well as today and required pulling an all-nighter.
I slowly rose to my feet, bones creaking and popping. Damn. I should book a celebratory massage session for after I send the manuscript off to my editor. Since I was starving, I opened the fridge, then paused.
Nothing to eat. And after the delicious, real food Killian had made in the morning, I didn’t want to settle for crackers again.
For a split second, I didn’t feel like eating alone. My head swiveled toward Killian’s house, but I caught myself before I did something stupid. Like going over and asking him to eat with me. We’d only agreed on breakfast. Dinner was too much. Too much like a real couple or something. Although he was easily the most eligible bachelor in town, I wasn’t in Kingstree to date.
Okay, I was being ridiculous. I was hungry and my brain didn’t function well on low blood sugar. Once I had some decent food in my belly, I wouldn’t be thinking about Killian that way—I was certain of it.