Alone (9 page)

“I said—”

“I heard you say
no
and I heard your reasons why. I also have read how crucial they are to an author’s career. Maybe there’s a compromise to be had. Can we please just discuss it and
see
if there isn’t a way to find something that can be done?”

I nodded, sighing as I leaned against the counter. “Okay, but can we do it tomorrow? I’m wiped. Apparently I can only handle one drama a day.”

“That’s more than fair,” he agreed with a weak smile.

Either way, the mood and night were ruined—we both knew that, and honestly, I was a big enough person to admit it was both our fault. Maybe even more mine than his.

Conall left after he finished helping me clean up dinner, the awkwardness in the air too much for us to salvage the night. I changed and couldn’t pull it together enough to do anything other than burn off nervous energy. I decided to handle some of the promo stuff we discussed. But it was summer and there were too many bugs living with woods half surrounding the house, so out to the garage I went to grab a box.

Rubbing alcohol didn’t work, but nail polish remover did. I carefully applied it to the outside of each USB drive, not wanting to ruin them after all. But an hour later, I was no more calmed down when I was done with that box. I sighed and got the next one and kept working.

By midnight I’d finished four boxes, more wound up than when I’d started. The mere
idea
of having to
talk
about attending
several
conferences and
traveling
was wigging me out. I was a freak. I acknowledged that. It didn’t make it any less hard for me to deal with by admitting that I was in fact a freak.

I finally crashed sometime after three in the morning once all seven of the USB boxes were done, stacked in my front room around the ugly furniture. I wondered if Conall would get rid of that crap too.

The next morning I got up, showered, made coffee, and an icy protein shake, not really in the mood for anything more substantial. I ignored my emails and phone, writing to take my mind off everything else. When my hands hurt from typing, I took breaks, working on removing my logo from the dorky mugs he’d purchased. I had started with the plain Bic pens he got, but there were
thousands
of those and that would take days.

I didn’t care
that
much about those to waste that much time. I really didn’t.

Then I went back to writing.

Then back to the mugs.

And on.

And on.

And
on
.

Next thing I knew my doorbell rang. The first time I ignored it, figuring it was UPS, but then it went off again. I sighed as I got up to open it. When I did, I blinked at Conall standing there with a bag of sandwiches.

“What time is it?”

“After six,” he hedged, studying me. “You didn’t answer you phone all day. I got worried.”

“Sorry, I was distracted,” I muttered and walked back up the stairs. I headed into my office, saved what I was working on before turning around and going into the front room. I plopped on the floor and continued on the mugs.

“Nina, have you been doing this all day?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I wrote too.”

“Have you eaten?”

I glanced at my glass, wincing when I saw my melted protein shake still full and untouched. “No.”

He knelt down next to me and put his hand over mine. “Please talk to me. Is this still about yesterday? I thought we were okay now? Are you upset with me still?”

“No, not upset with you,” I whispered, lowering my head.

“Then what is it?”

“I like you now,” I admitted with a half shrug.

“And that’s a bad thing?” he chuckled, setting down the bag and sitting next to me.

I shook my head and closed my eyes. “No, but I also don’t want you to know that I’m a freak either and you will after we discuss what you want us to.”

“Oh, Nina,” he sighed, hugging me to him. “You’re
different
, special. I like that. I’m a thousand-year-old
vampire
. I promise I won’t throw stones. I will find your quirks endearing.”

“Like that I spaz out about having a
conversation,
don’t sleep, do all this crazy nervous work, forget to
eat
, don’t hear my phone, and go space cadet?” I shot right back, gesturing around the room.

“Yes.” Conall kissed my cheek, holding his lips there longer than normal. “Yes, like that. I just wish I came here sooner so I could have eased your worry. Now, let’s get something in you because I don’t like my woman unattended to.”

“Okay.” I pouted as he helped me up, feeling like a
complete
mental case. He pulled out a chair for me at the kitchen table and placed a sandwich in front of me before getting me a Sprite from the fridge, knowing my stomach would be a mess from not eating all day. I couldn’t help but smile, he was truly considerate like that when he was paying attention.

Then he sat down in the seat next to me and opened up the pop for me, waiting until I took my first bite of food before he spoke. “Now, tell me your biggest concern and we will work from there.”

“I am a
huge
pain in the ass to travel with,” I blurted after a moment. “I hate road trips. Being trapped in a car drives me insane and I’m a total bitch. I end up chain-smoking which pisses off anyone I’m with. I can’t let anyone else drive or I have panic attacks that they’re going to drive us off the road or something and into a ditch. Heaven
forbid
there are mountains, then I’m a complete mess. I’m afraid of heights—more the ravines and we’ll go into one.”

“There’s always flying.”

“I’m too fat for plane seats,” I argued.

“Not anymore,” he reminded me.

I rolled my eyes as I drank my pop. “
You’re
too fat for plane seats. They’re small.”

“Not on my plane.”

I blinked at him a moment, slowly setting my pop down. “You own a plane.”

“I own a plane,” he echoed, smiling widely. “A very nice jet with big, comfy seats, and a flight crew that is at my beck and call so no driving unless you want to. We can rent a car in any city we’re in and you can always drive. I hate driving in America most times to be honest. And city driving infuriates me.”

“I love city driving,” I hedged, staring at him and losing some of the tension in my shoulders. “I grew up in Chicago. That’s how I learned to drive.”

“Then that works out. So we use my plane and you drive. I will navigate, as they say.”

“Um, okay.”

“What else?”

“I don’t like strangers touching me. It’s weird.”

“I will be your bodyguard. I assume you aren’t the only person who feels that way. There has to be other authors with security.”

“I have seen that,” I agreed, nodding. “But I’m not some big-time author who could get away with that.”

“So what? Who’s to say that there’s a sales level you need to hit before you can feel comfortable and safe?”

I simply blinked at him a moment, floored he was on my side almost, which I shouldn’t have been—more that he wasn’t reacting as if I should be locked up. “That’s a good point.”

“Be specific. Is shaking hands okay?” I nodded. “Taking pictures and maybe leaning in together?”

“Yeah, just no hugging or kissing. I always seem to have people hugging me in an elevator or trying to kiss my cheek. I’m trapped in a
box
with people jumping me. It’s like the walls are closing in on me with strangers. And then they always want to know what room I’m in, and when I won’t tell them, they get mad and that’s not fair—”

“Breathe,” he cooed, rubbing his hand over my arm. I nodded again, spots forming in my vision, before I slowly took in air through my nose and let it out through my mouth. “Good, again.” I did and then felt lighter again. “Okay, I have a clearer picture now. So you’ve had a few overzealous fans take things a bit too far and it’s freaked you out, especially since you’re not a fan of crowds. Does that seem accurate?”

I considered that. “Yes.”

“So we won’t stay at the same hotel as the conference. That will eliminate any room following and elevator trappings. We’ll attend the one signing and maybe you can speak at one session. Would that be all right?”

“Yeah,
that
sounds cool,” I agreed, giving him a half smile. Then I had another idea. “And dinner. I want to have dinner with
my
fans.”

“What do you mean, lovely?”

“I like talking with
my
fans,” I explained, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sometimes at the signing, it’s people who just want the autographs of everyone so they can sell stuff on eBay. Or well, rude people. I’ve had people show up to the table and go,
tell me why I should read you
. And I just blink at them, like, this isn’t fucking sales pitch time. I traveled for a day to meet and spend time with my fans. The fun part of the conferences is getting a chance to put a face with a name of people who email, reply to posts on Facebook.

“Stuff like that. I’d rather sign autographs, speak at something, and then take a bunch of my real fans out to dinner, sit down with them, and just
hang
. The ones who’d sign up through
my
site, not people just wanting what they can
get
from anyone.” He still stared at me like he didn’t get it. “Some people go to these things as their vacation. They don’t care about most of the authors, they just want the free stuff or the parties. I threw an event at one, and no one
cared
to talk to me. They just wanted the booze or the models and the swag bags.

“We ran out during the party, and
after
the party, some girl got in my face, pissed off I wouldn’t give her one, saying I was a whore because I was hiding them from her. Another one was pissed my logo was on my USB drive and there wasn’t much memory on them. I told her it was just to give away my books, and she rolled her eyes at me, saying now she’d have to delete that crap off there. Shit like that ruined the
whole
thing for me. And that party was like ten
thousand
dollars to throw.

“I wanted to do it for my fans. To have fun. It wasn’t. I only got to talk to like five of them who were really sweet and that part
was
fun. The other twenty who were jerks ruined it for me. Sure there were lots in between who thanked me, had no clue who I was but were very polite, that was cool too, but the people who ran the convention were jerks, there were huge headaches, and it was god awful mostly.”

“So you’re saying you’d rather take those five fans out to a nice steakhouse and spend real time with them the night before the book signing or something?” he surmised, smiling.

“I’m saying I’d run a contest of my fans and pay for ten of my fan to
go
to the convention and take them to dinner the night of the book signing or something. I wouldn’t want to interfere with the conference. The book signing is normally the last day anyways.” I shrugged. It was after all. “But still no hugging. I’m sorry, I’m weird about hugging. No touchie until I know people well.”

“I think that’s more than a fair requirement if you buy them dinner,” he chuckled softly, shooting me a wink. “I don’t think that’s you being a pain in the ass, Nina.” He reached over and covered my hand with his. “I think it’s sweet,
you’re
sweet, lovely.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Nina.”

“Okay then.” I smiled as I wolfed down my food, the worry leaving me. Maybe I could do the author thing, kissing hands and shaking babies—just
my
way and not freak out.

Cool.

I cleaned up my wrappings, Conall having long since eaten and done the same. He simply watched me as if waiting to see what I was going to do next… What
our
night was going to be.

That was when it hit me—everything was all about me. Okay, sure, things started out with him invading my life, but things weren’t like that anymore. We
both
had to change if we weren’t going to revert to that.

I stood there a moment and we stared at each other. Finally I cleared my throat. “So, um—what do you want to do?”

“Whatever you want to do,” he hedged, eyeing me curiously. “What are you thinking, Nina?”

“That I’m selfish and I never ask about you or what you want,” I admitted. “I know next to nothing about you and I want to.”

The smile that lit up his face was brighter than Michigan Avenue during the holidays. “And I would love to tell you, I am thrilled that you are interested. But not tonight. I can see how tired you are. Tomorrow perhaps? We can play that board game I brought over last night and relax.”