Page 3 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)
RYAN
THE LOVE WAGER
“ I t had rocks in it!” a feminine voice shouted from backstage. “Fucking rocks. Someone bought a vibrator, filled the box up with rocks, and then returned it. And the store put it back on the shelf!”
I chuckled while trying to focus on reviewing the notes on my tablet, but that voice...It was identical to the pink-haired woman from the convenience store who had kept me tossing and turning all night.
The voices faded as I cracked my knuckles and skimmed the final page of the presentation.
Public speaking was usually a cakewalk, but I felt a little out of my element at Rom-Con.
While everyone else had their list of industry giants to network with or friends to catch up with, I was the lone dating coach in a sea of authors, publishers, and marketing gurus.
I swiped back to the beginning of my presentation.
It was an easy speech on the psychology of falling in love and what drives two strangers to make intimate connections.
I talked about this stuff all the time, but I tried to tailor it to be applicable to the audience.
It should have been easy as pie. I blamed the nerves on the fact that I was fucking exhausted.
A woman with auburn hair strolled down the hallway, flanked by two other ladies. Their arms were linked together as they laughed and sang an off-tune sea shanty while they collapsed onto a loveseat in the makeshift backstage lounge.
Their pink badges identified them as authors. The teal ribbon hanging from the bottom meant they were also panelists or speakers. I couldn’t make out the names, but I did know one thing: the pink-haired woman was one of them.
This would either make the opening of my speech hilarious, or it would piss her off. For my sake, I hoped she had a good sense of humor. My eyes glazed over the tablet screen as I sipped my coffee and tuned in to their conversation.
“I still can’t believe we have to sit on a panel with that guy,” Pink Hair said as she tore into a croissant.
The woman with dirty blonde hair looked around. “Has anyone seen him this morning?”
“He’ll probably show up late and hungover, like everything revolves around him, just like every other bro podcaster who likes to hear the sound of his own voice.”
Okay. So Pink Hair had opinions about me. Apparently, she didn’t realize I had been the one behind her in the pharmacy. Interesting.
The redhead laughed. “What is with you? You always assume the best in people.”
“Unless that person is Ryan Ford,” Pink Hair countered. “Is it assuming the worst if my assumptions are formed from the previous words and actions of a person?”
I swiped out of my presentation and opened the email from the convention that listed all the panelists who would be on stage for the forum after my presentation. Thankfully, the organizers had included headshots.
Jackpot.
The redhead was Whitney West, the dirty blonde to the left of her was Wander Whitlock, and my future wife was Willow Winslet.
In Willow’s headshot, she sported purple hair.
The pink must have been a recent change.
I returned to my notes, feeling satisfied that I knew more about her than she knew about me—for now, at least.
“I’m just saying. Who claims to be able to make people fall in love? That’s obnoxious. There are so many other people they could have brought in to give the keynote speech,” Willow said.
She may have had a point. I was a little obnoxious online, but that was because I had to speak in the language that my target demographic used.
Which was . . . a little obnoxious sometimes. She had me there. But it was a means to an end.
If I could make one douchebag turn into a productive, respectful member of society, then my work was a success.
“Mr. Ford.”
I looked up to find one of the event organizers. “Yes, ma’am?”
She smiled. “I wanted to let you know the brunch mixer is about to wrap up and everyone will be taking their seats in a moment if you’d like to head to the stage.”
Willow and her friends had already slipped out of the lounge and were heading down the hall toward the ballroom. Her hips swung in a sassy walk. Bubblegum hair spilled down her back as she tipped her head back and laughed at something one of the other ladies said.
The organizer cleared her throat. “Um—is there anything I can get for you before you head to the stage?”
Someone in the ballroom spoke into a microphone, requesting that everyone take their seats. The muffled instruction was enough to snap me out of the haze.
I stood and tucked my tablet beneath my arm. “No. Thank you, though. You all have been too gracious.”
I followed her to the wings of the stage and waited behind a fake tree as the panel moderator gave a quick welcome speech and ran through the events of the day.
I spotted Willow through the leaves, looking so fucking pretty.
Part of me wondered if I had hallucinated how beautiful she was while we were standing under the fluorescent lights in the checkout line.
But today she was ten times more breathtaking. The stage made her glow like a summer sunset full of cotton candy skies. And that mouth on her . . . Her quick wit was something else. I fucking loved it.
“This year, we are so excited to bring a cutting-edge expert in romance, dating, and relationships to the Rom-Con stage. His podcast, Leading Man , is the number one lifestyle and relationship podcast in the country. His revolutionary relationship coaching program, The Ford Method, has garnered international accolades for its no-nonsense take on dating. And today, he’s here with us to discuss his approach to helping people fall in love.
Please give a warm welcome to Ryan Ford. ”
I strode out from behind the fake tree and offered the crowd a quick wave as I made my way to the podium and adjusted the microphone.
The panelists I would be joining at the end of my presentation sat to the left, putting Willow in my peripheral vision.
She maintained a look of indifference as I began my speech, but the tight line of her lips betrayed her obvious contempt for me. Well, for who she thought I was.
Unfortunately for both of us, I was going to piss her off a little more.
“Picture this,” I began. “It’s a Friday night in New York City.
The weather is perfect. All over Manhattan, people are going on first dates.
They’re seeing shows together. Taking walks through Central Park.
They’re laughing over dessert. They’re making human connections.
They’re experiencing those singular moments in life that change everything.
” I paused. “And you’re standing in line at a convenience store, buying a vibrator and pineapple seltzers. Alone.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Willow stiffened.
“It begs the question, why? The average human spends 29,228 days on Earth. By the time you reach adulthood at eighteen, you’re down to 22,646 days.
Fourteen thousand of those days will be spent working, leaving you 8,646 days of living.
You have to make the most of those 8,646 days.
Why in the world would you spend even one of those eight-thousand-something days in a checkout line, buying seltzers and bad sex toys? ”
Willow was fuming from her seat on the wing. The woman looked like she wanted to throttle me. Whitney reached over and gave Willow’s arm a squeeze, but it did nothing to break her death glare.
“For many, dating is this big, elusive concept. We assume everyone knows what to do to fall in love. But the truth is, most people don’t.
Most people don’t have cliché, sitcom high school dating experiences where they go through a regimented set of baby steps that train them to find the love of their life as an adult.
As I crafted The Ford Method, my research taught me that falling in love has nothing to do with romance.
It’s not about the flowers and chocolates.
It’s about establishing human connections.
As society becomes more and more isolated due to working remotely or establishing friendships through social media platforms, the confidence to approach someone face-to-face is a fleeting skill.
With The Ford Method, I coach romantics through the first twelve weeks of their relationship.
With ninety-six percent of my clients moving their three-month romances into long-term relationships or marriages, I’d say I know a thing or two about what it takes for two people to fall in love. ”
Willow gagged.
I breezed through the rest of the presentation.
I showed off client testimonials, a photo of my wall of wedding invitations, and how I believed romance books encouraged people to take a hard look at what was acceptable to them in real-world relationships.
I covered the key points of my program and method, giving them an overview of what people are seeking in relationships.
It was just enough information to entice the authors and publishing professionals in the audience to buy the course and experience it themselves to deepen the characters they write.
“And you can consider it a business expense,” I quipped. “Gotta get all the tax write-offs you can, right?”
The crowd laughed in agreement, but Willow had tuned out. I stole a moment to look at her by assessing the crowd from side to side. She glowered at me, but quickly tamped it down when Wander elbowed her.