Page 22 of Not on the Same Page

“I’ll tell you what,” I say, willing to do anything at this moment not to see her cry. “I’ll take a look at your query. Did you attach the first few chapters of your book?”

She nods silently as her cheek depresses like she’s biting on the inside of it.

“Good. I’ll give you a personal critique on your query letter and your opening scene, okay? If it’s good, I’ll reach out to the agency to see if anyone is taking YA right now. How does that sound?”

I don’t know if she has enough experience yet to know what an incredible offer it is for an agent to give personal feedback to a query, but she nods again and takes a deep breath in through her nose.

“Thank you, Miss McBryde. I really appreciate it.” She hesitates for a moment as if she might say something else but eventually turns and walks quickly out the door.

Damn, that was awkward.

I stall for a few minutes by pulling out my phone and checking my email so I don’t inadvertently follow her out and end up running into her outside the room. Suzanna has emailed the team again, and Isabella sent a stream of GIFs to my text messages, all of them featuring some sort of ice queen.

Head down and laughing as each GIF gets more and more ridiculous, I search for one of my own as I make my way out of the room. I find the perfect rendition of a panoramic view of an ice palace with magical icicles shooting out of the top of it, and just when I’m about to hit Send, I run into something very hard. And warm. That smells like clean linen.

“Oof,” I let out on a breath. The wind is knocked out of me, and I’m not sure it’s entirely because of the surprise of running straight into Casey’s chest.

A low laugh vibrates through me, which is when I realize I have mostly folded myself into him rather than bounced off him. Quickly, I take a step back and peer up at his face. His eyes are soft and crinkle at the edges as he smiles down at me.

“Are you stalking me?” I blurt out.

His expression turns to one of amused confusion. “Why would I be stalking you?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug helplessly. “I don’t see you for a year, and for two days you’ve been”—I wave at our surroundings—“inescapable.”

“Do you want an escape?”

Well that’s a loaded question. And knowing Casey, he’s asked it that way on purpose. He could mean an escape from him or from life…which is exactly what got us into this situation the last time. That and a raw attraction I still can’t deny, and neither can he if the way he drags his gaze down my body and back up is any indication.

I’m suddenly self-conscious that I wore the same dress I was wearing last night but with an open blouse and flat shoes. Usually I’m proud of my capsule wardrobes, but for some reason, I wonder if Casey notices I’m re-wearing clothes. Or if he minds. Or if he’d rather have them on the floor anyway…

Pinching my temples between my finger and thumb, I step back again. “I have a session in a minute.”

“I know,” he says.

I look at him pointedly. “Stalking?”

He chuckles again. “Aren’t all agents in the next pitch session?”

He’s right, but I narrow my eyes at him anyway. This needs to end if I’m going to have any ability to focus for the next ninety minutes of pitches. “Did you need something, Casey?”

“No, but I think you do.”

I frown, wondering if this is some kind of double entendre or if he’s getting bolder in his suggestiveness. But he holds up a clear plastic cup and jiggles it between us. The ice in the cup clinks together making just about the best sound in the world.

Unable to stop myself, my eyes light up and I gasp. “Is that what I think it is?”

“If you think it’s an iced oat milk latte with one pump of sugar-free vanilla syrup, then yes.”

Greedily, I grab it and take a long pull from the straw. Sweet, caffeinated goodness hits my tongue and slides down my throat. I can’t be held responsible for the groan of satisfaction that tumbles out of me.

“Casey Endersen, you are truly a god among men.”

“It’s a long day. I thought you could use some extra fuel.”

“Thank you,” I moan.

His eyes flash, but it’s only for a second before it’s gone again. “No problem.” He checks his watch. “I’d better get going. One of Anastasios’ authors has a panel starting in a few minutes. Maybe I’ll run into you later.”