I took another gulp of coffee. The sugar and caffeine made my brain buzz.
“What does Beckett want?” Thatcher asked.
I sighed. “He says we’re made for each other. But we’re total opposites. He has the worst taste in music, and he doesn’t sleep. He’s so smart he wired his entire house to be electronic. He drinks whiskey and drives a Maserati… and his closet is bigger than my entire apartment. Do you know how many pairs of glasses he owns?”
Thatcher winced, watching as I gestured wildly with my coffee cup. “Not a clue,” he said.
“Loads. He has a whole drawer full of them.” I took a giant sip of sugar-laced coffee. “And he wears the most adorable socks.”
Thatcher finished his coffee, picked up a box of books, and handed it to me. “You’ve got it bad.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“It’s about damn time.” He grabbed two more boxes, and we headed back into the bookshop.
The line of people at Miranda’s table had grown. It was almost time for her to arrive.
“I’m going to take these books up to the register.” Thatcher nodded toward the front of the store. “Will you put those out on the table? And try to remember how much you’ve been looking forward to this day. You’ll figure things out with Beckett. He’s not going anywhere, Lacey. He’ll be there after you meet Miranda.”
If only Thatcher knew how true his words were.
I watched him walk away and then made my way through the line of fans to the signing table. I gave the cutout of Sally and her kiss-marked boyfriend a blistering glare as I placed copies ofBeneath the Starson the table.
The thought of Sally signing all those books, pretending she’d been the one to write them, made my skin crawl.
I slammed the last book on the table and scanned the crowd of fans. These women had no idea they were being scammed. Every one of them thought they were getting a book signed by their favorite author, but Sally was nothing but a fake. I sent the cutout another poisonous glare, and I noticed a man standing in the group of women. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew who he was by the pile of black hair pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head.
Chapter 37
I hadn’t seen Xan since that day at the park a month ago. As promised, he hadn’t called or texted. I realized I hadn’t given him much thought. My mind had been stuck on someone else.
“Hey, Xan.”
His head popped up. When his eyes lit on me, a big smile transformed his face. It was like watching the sun come out from behind a cloud.
“Hey! You work here?”
I pointed at my Hyperbole’s T-shirt. I’d modified it by cutting off the sleeves and ripping out the shoulder seams, which were now held together with oversized yellow safety pins. “Nah, I just like the uniform.” I glanced down at the copy ofBeneath the Starshe clutched. “Are you a fan?”
Xan blushed. “Nope. It’s for my mom.” He stepped out of line to grab a book off a nearby shelf. “This is a little more my speed.”
I walked over and looked at the book he’d chosen. It was a guide to the best mountain trails in the area. “That’s a good one. It has all the best hikes.”
Xan flipped through the pages, nodding. “I think this is what I need.” He pointed at a picture of bikers grinding their way up a trail.
“Looks brutal,” I said.
“Pretty much.” He grinned, then snapped the book shut. He seemed oblivious to the fact that every woman in the vicinity was checking him out. “How’ve you been? Cause anymore bike accidents at the park?”
“Not lately. I haven’t seen you around the park.”
“I qualified for Celtman.” His eyes sparked with enthusiasm. “I’ve spent all my free time training.”
“Celtman? What’s that?”
“It’s an endurance triathlon in Scotland with an attrition rate of fifty-eight percent.” His voice rang with pride. “You have to qualify to compete.”
“Attrition rate?” I asked.
