Page 16 of Not a Strong Enough Word

“Sure,” I say as I slide into the seat. “It’s only fair, I suppose.”

“What are you drinking?” he asks as he leans closer to the bar. The movement causes his chest to brush against my shoulder, and the scent of him overpowers the smell of wheaty beer wafting up from my shirt. It’s sweet—vanilla and almond. Like paper.

I idly twist my glass on top of the bar. “312.”

“A Chicago staple,” he responds approvingly. “You’re from here?”

“Midwestern.” I shrug.

He rolls his lips between his teeth and narrows his eyes at me. The proximity of his body is making my own tingle. If I had to guess based on the fact that he hasn’t moved away, he’s feeling the same.

“You’re going to make me work for information about you, aren’t you?” he asks after the bartender takes our orders. “That’s fine. I like a challenge.”

The way he leans in and his voice drops an octave has my toes curling. I hadn’t intended to make him work for anything, but now I can’t think of a single thing I want more than to drag this out as long as possible.

“Take a guess,” I tease as the bartender deposits our drinks. “I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

“Hmm,” he hums as he sips his beer. He makes a big show of studying me again, as if he hasn’t been doing so this whole time. “Okay. You like words. You’re out with friends, but if we’re both avoiding the dance floor, this probably isn’t your first choice for a Friday-night activity. Being Midwestern is interesting but probably not relevant. You’re drinking beer and not something fruity, and your apparel would suggest you don’t put much stock into your appearance—”

“Hey!” I interject.

He holds his hands, palms out, in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says through a deep chuckle, the sound of it warming me straight through to my core. “I meant you’re not all dolled up. It’s not a value statement. There’s nothing wrong with that.” His gaze dips, then he drags it back up to meet mine. “Some people might prefer it.”

That shot earlier must be making me bold, because I respond, “Some people? Or one in particular?”

He tips his head back and lets out a loud, joyful laugh. It exposes his throat to me, and I take the opportunity to watch as it moves, the strong column of it long and rough with a five o’clock shadow.

“Quick witted, too.” He wraps his long fingers around his glass where it sits on the bar top. A gold ring on his middle finger glints in the light and clinks against the glass as he taps it in thought. “Are you in journalism? Publishing?”

“Close.” I dip my chin and take another sip of my beer. “I’m a writer. Based on your guess, though, I’m going to assume you’re in journalism or publishing?”

“Editor,” he says. “Would I have read anything of yours?”

“Probably not. I just signed my first deal. That’s why my friends dragged me out tonight. We’re celebrating.” Another squeal comes from the area of the dance floor. “Well, they are.”

“Congratulations on the deal,” he says. “What house are you with?”

I can’t help the way my back straightens with pride. Getting a deal with a major publisher is significant, especially as a debut. “JMP,” I tell him.

He huffs a laugh as he shakes his head. Having expected him to recognize how awesome that announcement was, I frown and my shoulders deflate a little.

“What?” I ask.

“That’s where I work.”

“Oh!” I perk up again. “Really? What are the odds?”

“One in a million, probably. What’s your name?”

“Scarlett Frye. What’s yours?”

He coughs on his beer, pounding his chest to dislodge the liquid. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes,” I say slowly.

“Holy shit. You’re…” He trails off and stares at me with a slack jaw. “Everyone at JMP is talking about you. They’ve got all hands on deck for your book. You had senior editors fighting over who was going to get to work with you.”

This isn’t exactly news to me, of course. Trina had kept me updated about the whole process before I signed. I had multiple offers, and part of the reason I went with JMP was because of how badly they wanted my book. It felt like the right choice to go with a house that acted as excited about it as I am.