Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
“No choice with these massive paws.”
“I happen to like your hands.” Heat crept up his neck because he actually hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He peeked at Dax to find the man watching him with a contemplative expression. He really did have such an interesting face, with sharp cheekbones that came down to a softly rounded chin. Those cheekbones set off how very large and green his eyes were. And Everett would kill to have his long, black eyelashes. He cleared his throat again. “Okay, so I’ll gather, and you wrap and pack. You can tell me more about all of those strange dates. I’ve got a couple more I can tell you about.”
They shared stories as they cleared shelves, moving around each other in a way that felt like they were more than mere acquaintances. Everett was truly comfortable around Dax. Comfortable, but there was also this constant hum of attraction. Of excitement. The kind that made his breath catch and sent a stream of anticipation to simmer low in his gut.
And Dax looked at him a lot. It wasn’t his imagination that there was genuine interest in how he studied him. It made Everett want to get to know him. Everything about him.
“Tell me something,” Everett said as he handed a stack of books to Dax. “With all those degrees, why don’t you teach?”
Dax was silent a few moments before he softly chuckled. “With my job, this will be surprising, but I’m really pretty shy, and the thought of getting up in front of a classroom of students makes me break into a sweat.”
“You’re talking to a writer, so I more than understand. There’s nothing I like more than being alone at home, behind my computer. I do attend author conventions now and then, and that seems to be just the amount of socialization I need. Or can handle, really.”
Dax’s head had popped up with the word writer. “You write? I’m surprised that hasn’t come up. How wonderful. Anything I might have read?”
Everett pointed to a shelf behind the desk filled with E.V. Page books. “My grandfather was extremely proud of everything I put out, even the indie titles that never went anywhere. All the books on that shelf are mine.”
Dax walked to the shelf and took one of the books. “I don’t recognize the name, but I do love a good thriller.”
“The series at the end is cozy mysteries. I have a publisher for those and am starting to actually see some success with them. But of course, my interest seems to be splitting lately, and I’m working on something different. Well, I’m working on two separate projects. I do have a deadline on the next in the mystery series.”
“Would you mind if I borrowed some of these to read?”
“Not at all.” Everett grinned. “Just don’t tell me if you hate them. I’m one of those authors who doesn’t read his reviews. I can have twenty fantastic five-stars, and the one bad review will stick in my brain. I’ve actually spent days obsessing about rough reviews before, so I decided they just aren’t for me. They’re for readers, anyway.”
“So which one would you recommend I read first? Which is your favorite?”
Everett walked to the shelf, noting that his head didn’t even reach Dax’s shoulders as he stopped next to him. He grabbed a book and handed it over. “This is my favorite. It’s a standalone thriller about a man who gets pulled into a life-or-death situation against his will. There’s a twist I’m quite proud of. It did absolutely nothing, but I do hope that someday the right reader will give it a chance and start blasting on social media.”
“Is that how you do a lot of your promotion?”
Everett nodded. “But I’m not very good at it. I just hired someone to do TikTok videos for me, but I handle my own Facebook and Instagram. I have a pretty decent amount of newsletter subscribers, too.”
“If you have a deadline, is packing up your grandfather’s home taking valuable time away?”
“Fuck yes.” He laughed. “But I actually took this month off to work on the house, planning to put in a few hours of writing in the evenings. I um, also write a lot in the middle of the night because I have insomnia.”
“I went through a period dealing with that myself, and it’s awful. I’m sorry.”
Everett shrugged. “It will hopefully pass. It started when my grandfather became bedridden. It was hard to see him like that. We’ve been close my whole life, and he was the only family I had left. I’m a family-oriented kind of person, so I guess the stress of being so alone now is affecting my ability to sleep. What about you? Are you close to your family?”
“Very. I’m an only child, but my parents and I are close. We only live a few houses down from each other now. They own a shop here in Seattle.”