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His eyes rounded. “Of course! That’s where you got Tika’s name from.”
“I think I’ve read every book she ever wrote. Three times. Maybe four.”
“You and Gemma both. So, help me with some protocol. If an author is on a panel with another author they admire, is it considered bad form to ask them to sign a book?”
“Not if you buy it and line up with everyone else.”
“I’m definitely buying it. One for me and one for Gemma. And Dwayne’s latest for my cousin, who loves his stuff. And Amy’s book, too, which sounded great.”
“I read it last winter. So good.”
“Then we need two of those, three of Tara’s, one of Dwayne’s—”
“Three of Dwayne’s. Nia has a niece and nephew that age.”
“Two of Amy’s, three of Tara’s, three of Dwayne’s, and none of Bruce’s.”
“Screw Bruce.”
Chris laughed, and Daphne’s phone buzzed. It was Sakura reminding her about the signing.
Daphne: Zane in tow. On our way there now.
Sakura: I’ll be done in twenty minutes. I’ll come over to help.
Daphne: We’ll be fine. Catch your breath. We can meet up after.
In twenty minutes, Daphne expected to be done and lined up for the other signings. Zane was a new author after all. Amy’s book had been out longer and had been on the NYT list plus won awards. Bruce was a known entity, and she and Chris might not want his books, but he’d be busy enough. Tara and Dwayne would definitely be busy.
And Zane Remington… Well, hopefully, they wouldn’t make him sit at an empty table after his short line was gone. Daphne had seen that when she haunted bookstores. Authors—sometimes even names she knew—valiantly manning an empty signing table while people asked directions to the restrooms. She always bought a book.
A young woman in a staff T-shirt met them. “Mr. Remington? I’ll be your line attendant. Oh, and I see you brought your…”
The woman trailed off, letting Chris fill in the blank, and Daphne was vaguely flattered that she didn’t jump to the conclusion Daphne was clearly only his assistant.
“Daphne,” he said in his Zane voice. “My Daphne, my indispensable D, my right hand, my partner in crime. This afternoon, she will be playing the role of my assistant.”
The woman’s look said she was kinda hoping for a bit more clarification on their relationship, and Daphne bit her cheek at that. But it was a good answer, one that didn’t pin her into any role.
“I’ll be flapping books for him,” Daphne said. “And making sure his Sharpies stay fresh.”
“Flapping books?” Chris said. “Do I even want to know what that means?”
The woman smiled. “She means opening them to the signing page for you. Did I hear that this is your first signing?”
“It is. Please tell me I have at least a couple of people waiting.”
“Uh…”
Chris surreptitiously squeezed Daphne’s forearm. “That’s quite all right. It’s a new book by a new author. We will dream of the day when the lineups are so long that ice is required for writer’s cramp.”
He smiled down at her, and her knees wobbled. He hadn’t said the day “he’d” have a lineup. He hadn’t said “he’d” need ice. That was for her. A wish for her.
Damn it, Chris, could you be less sweet? Please? So if I do realize you haven’t been flirting with me, I can at least say you weren’t “all that” anyway?
Except he was all that.
Damn him.
