Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I should too, but we can do that while we’re down there. Come on, change and we’ll head down.”
The offer is too good to pass up. We change into our swimsuits, and I put on a summer dress as a cover up. I had to dig deep in my closet back at my parents to find some summer clothes for this trip. I wasn’t expecting such high temperatures, but this abnormal heatwave is definitely welcome.
Basha gives the young man at the booth our room number. He tells us where we can find towels and when he sees our laptops, tells us where we can find outlets if we need them.
“He’s cute,” Basha says, earning an eye roll from me. She’s smitten with Cameron Simmons, even though she confided in me that she only sees him as a friend. Nothing wrong with having friends in your life, that’s for sure.
If Alex and I can’t find our way back to each other, I hope we at least end up being friends. Although, I know that can be tricky. Once you cross the line from friends to lovers, it’s hard to go back, especially when there are feelings there. He may not want to put up with my insecurities though. Why would someone, who could literally have anyone, want to put up with someone second-guessing him and their relationship all the time?
Basha and I find a couple of chaises and spread out. With the stupid cast still on, I’m limited, but am able to read. Before I left my parents, I printed out all the submissions authors have sent for their fifteen minutes with me this weekend. They’re going to pitch their story, and I need to figure out in that time slot if we want to continue talking or not. It’s like speed dating for editors and authors.
At some point, Basha and I order lunch, including some cocktails, and reapply our sunscreen. I write as many questions as I can on the manuscripts in illegible handwriting and wish this damn cast was off. I should’ve made an appointment at the doctor’s office in Buffalo and had it removed. But no, I’m a good patient and listened to the doctor in Portland. My arm feels totally fine . . . famous last words.
At the end of the conference, the keynote speaker congratulates everyone on a successful weekend. I met with over thirty authors and have asked for full manuscripts from twelve of them. I’ll be grateful if I get six signed to a contract. I call that success, except for the challenge of getting them on the books with release dates.
Basha and I have a spa day today. She booked us for massages at an off-site location. We stand outside, in the heat, waiting for our rideshare to show up when a black limo stops in front of the valet.
“Who do you think that is?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Lifestyles of the rich and famous,” she sighs. “What I wouldn’t give to ride around town in that.”
“Same,” I say.
The driver steps out and comes toward us. “Kelsey Sloane?”
I swallow hard, look at Basha, who focuses on the car, and then I look at the driver. “Uh . . . yes?”
“Come with me, please.”
He motions for me to walk ahead, but my feet are firmly cemented to the ground. Basha nudges me forward and my steps falter. “What is this?”
The driver holds the rear door open. I peek inside and see Pioneer gear sitting on the seats. “Courtesy of Mr. Moore.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get in the car, Kelsey,” Basha says.
“What’s going on?”
Basha expression changes from indifference to elation. “Alex is trying to win you back. Now get in the car before I have to shove you in.”
“Did you do this?” I ask her.
“No, it’s all Alex. I’m just the go between. Now get in. The game starts soon and there’s going to be traffic. We can’t be late.”
I look around for Alex. Is he hiding somewhere? The thought of him near sends ripples through my body. My heart wants him. It craves his presence. I don’t see him but still hesitate before climbing into the back. Once I get in, Basha’s right behind me. As soon as the door closes, she puts one of the jerseys over her shirt, puts the foam finger on her hand, and opens the moonroof. Before I can even register what she’s doing Basha stands up through the window.
“Basha!”
“Woohoo, let’s go Pioneers!”
Should I be embarrassed?
No, I shouldn’t. I put my jersey on and follow Basha. I pound on the top of the car and match her enthusiasm. The only reason I’m a football fan is because of Alex, and if he did this for me, then I’m going to make sure every damn person on the street and in the parking lot of the stadium knows we’re here for the Pioneers.