Okay, she’s sweet but ditzy.
“Are you in trouble with the law?” Frieda asks, regarding like I’m a crazy person on the lam. If only she knew the half of it.
“Who’s from Hollywood?” comes another deep voice from nearby. But this voice isn’t gravelly like Paul’s. It’s rich and honeyed with a thick Scottish accent.
“The new girl.” Frieda hooks a thumb at me. The polish is badly mangled now, with only a few slivers of red remaining.
I turn around and come face to face with possibly one of the most attractive men I have ever seen. He’s very tall and well built, with sandy blonde hair that falls into his dark, dark chocolate eyes.
Ginny scoots in between me and Mr. MacHotness. “This is Will.”
She and Frieda weren’t whistling Dixie. I give the guy what I hope is a smile that says I’m glad to meet him but if he comes too close, I’ll cut his knees off.
“She heard you were hot,” Paul offers.
Will ignores him and tells me his name, like Ginny hasn’t spoken at all. His hand, when offered, is even warmer than Paul’s. I stare down at our hands together as he squeezes mine gently. “And you are?” he asks, forcing my eyes back up to his face.
As hot as he is, and as alluring as his accent is, I feel nothing when we touch except skin on skin. No attraction whatsoever. I’m relieved. “Zoe White.”
“Well, Zoe,” he says, gifting me with a devastatingly gorgeous yet crooked smile. “It’s awfully nice to meet you.”
Frieda leans her hip against the counter. “It’s okay if you ask him to recite the alphabet. Or read the telephone book. We’ve all done it before.” She leers. “Or wear a kilt. The traditional way.”
“Frieda!” Ginny hisses.
Will laughs, unbothered. All of this camaraderie makes me grossly uncomfortable, like I’m an even worse person for actually daring to be around happy people. I’m miserable. I deserve to be miserable.
I move away to clean the counter for the third time in twenty minutes. Will watches me with those dark eyes of his. “D’ya have a bit of a cleaning fetish?”
My cheeks burn. Does he think I’m a freak? I slam the spray bottle down on the counter. “No. It’s just . . .”
He waits patiently, like he has nothing else to do. Which, I guess he doesn’t, what with all the customers already served and happily eating their food. And the girls and Paul are at the other end of the counter, laughing over some video of cats on Ginny’s phone.
“Cleaning is . . .” Therapeutic, I’ve learned. “A good habit.”
He holds up a finger and orates, “Cleaning is next to godliness.”
Another moment I kind of wish I could laugh. I think my lips twitch slightly, because his own ease into that delightful, crooked smile that could charm the panties off the Queen of England.
My stomach contracts. Black spots dance before my eyes.
I turn away from Will. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea about me. I pick up the spray bottle and thoroughly scrub down every last table in the diner.
Late that night, as I ride the bus back to my boarding room, I spy a yellow-green streak ripple in the sky. My heart sputters. It’s the first feeling other than misery I’ve felt in weeks. I press my face and palms against the dirty glass and stare up, but the lights are gone.
No matter. I have all the time in the worlds to finally see those Northern Lights, just like I’ve always imagined. Nothing but time and a lonely stretch of life ahead of me.
Switching editors in the middle of a series is a terrifying experience, but luckily it morphed into an amazing one, too. Natasha Tomic, I am so glad to have your honest input and guidance as my editor. It’s a relief to know my books and characters are in firm yet loving hands. I adore you. So do my characters.
Tracy Cooper and Andrea Johnston, my go-to CP gals for brutally honest opinions, I offer my gratitude and love. Thank you for always being there to read scenes when I need immediate feedback or answering the question, “Is this scene hot enough?” repeatedly. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. Megan O’Connell, your feedback and comments (and support) have been invaluable. Thank you so much for agreeing to beta read for me. AMOH wouldn’t be the same without your guidance. Lori Lamb, thank you for taking time out of your busy life to beta read for an old friend. You really ought to looking into being a copyeditor—you totally rock at it!
Carly Stevens, once again, you designed a cover I totally dig. That hand drawn type? To die for. Seriously. You are ridiculously talented (and have great taste in music). I look forward to seeing what we can cook up for the rest of the series!
Kelly Simmon of Inkslinger PR, your belief in me and my writing means the world to me. Thank you for being the best publicist out there.