It was his home, and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
Chapter Ten
When Cameron had suggestedthey needed to be at the library three hours beforehand to prepare for the evening, Asher had protested. Although he’d never actually attended a book signing before, he couldn’t think of a single reason they needed to arrive that early.
Thanks to Linda Picklesimer, there really wasn’t anything left to do. Everything from refreshments to the placement of promotional posters had already been handled, and he refused to give in to Cameron’s irrational need to control everything. In fact, he’d been so steadfast in his rejection of the idea that they were still arguing about it.
Exactly three hours before the event was supposed to begin.
In the backseat of the Escalade while Ryder turned onto the street that led to the Mission Grove Public Library.
“One day,” Asher grumbled as he glared at Cameron, “I’m going to figure out how to tell you no.”
Cameron smirked. “Good luck with that.”
“You are a goddamn menace.”
As the SUV slowed to pull into the library’s parking lot, Cameron glanced over at him and laughed. “You love it.”
Asher said nothing. Staring through his tinted window, he tried to make sounds happen, but he only succeeded in flapping his lips around like an idiot.
“Jesus, Ash.” Cameron huffed, obviously annoyed. “Relax. It’s just an expression.”
“What?” he croaked, sitting up straighter in his seat, his eyes so wide they stung. “What the hell is this?”
Every available space in the parking lot was filled. Cars were lined up along the street. A few vehicles had been parked in the grass on the east side of the building. Even as he sat gaping, more people joined the queue that started at the front doors and stretched around the building.
Circling the library, Ryder pulled the vehicle into a reserved spot near the service entrance at the back and killed the engine.
“What did you expect?” Cameron asked. “I thought you liked being the center of attention?”
Asher glared. “This is not the same thing, and you know it.” He jabbed his index finger toward the building. “Who are those people?”
“They’re called fans.” He managed to keep a straight face as he said it, but his eyes danced with amusement.
“There are at least a hundred people out there.”
“You think so?” Cameron glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the end of the line that had swelled into the rear parking lot. “I was thinking closer to two hundred.”
The guy was just full of freaking jokes. “Why are they here?”
Sighing, Cameron reached over the driver’s seat to tap Ryder on the shoulder. “We’re going to need a minute, please.”
“No problem. Take your time.” Sliding smoothly out of the SUV, Ryder took up a position near the back bumper, his hands folded together at his waist.
“They’re here,” Cameron continued once they were alone, “to see you. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Besides,” he added, his mouth quirking up on one side, “I thought you liked being the center of attention?”
When Asher had agreed to do a signing, he’d been envisioning something a little more intimate. Yes, he’d been aware that they would be inviting members of the press, but he still hadn’t expected this madness. Whether naivety, delusion, or just lack of experience, he hadn’t anticipated so many people would care what he had to say. Clearly, that wasn’t the case, but it wasn’t just the size of the crowd that worried him.
With all the media attention over the past weeks, he had a bad feeling most of these so-calledfanswere more interested in his sordid past that they were his books. What exactly did they think was going to happen tonight?
Had they arrived in hopes that he’d stand up in front of them all and talk about the hell he’d been through as a teenager? Or maybe they followed Landon Dwyer and his stupid blog, so they’d come to gawk at him, to confirm that the pictures posted all over the internet were indeed of the famous and mysterious Asher Dare.
Yes, he’d flippantly stated that he liked to be the center of attention. He enjoyed having his ego stroked and his vanity flattered. Growing up in a loveless home where he’d been obviously unwanted, he craved that validation and acceptance.
This wasn’t some guy at the club or a few reporters outside an Italian restaurant, though. These people weren’t faceless book critics or abstract screennames. They were real people, tangible, and he wanted to know what the hell they were doing there.
“What exactly are they expecting to happen tonight?” He tried to speak calmly, to keep the accusation from his voice. Judging by Cameron’s pursed lips and raised eyebrow, he hadn’t succeeded.
