Page 50 of Lucky Shot (Moonshot Hockey #1)

RUBY

By the second day of the convention, I’m exhausted but in the best way.

Yesterday I signed books until my hand ached and my face hurt from smiling.

There is truly nothing better than chatting with readers.

I love fangirling with them over our shared favorites.

After all, I was a reader before I was an author.

As soon as I leave my room, I’m plucked back into the chaos.

People are already out with their carts and wagons filled with books they brought from home to be signed.

They’re armed with iced beverages and water bottles and wear comfortable shoes and shirts that proudly proclaim their love of books and devotion to particular fandoms.

Molly greets me at the elevator with a coffee.

“Good morning,” she chirps with a cheery smile as she extends the cup toward me. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not great,” I say as I eagerly take the coffee. My voice is slightly hoarse from all the talking I did yesterday. “Thanks for this.”

“Everything okay?” Molly asks, always ready to problem-solve.

“The girls in the room next to me were laughing and talking until late into the night. And maybe jumping on the bed? It was hard to tell, but they were having a great time.”

“I’ll talk to the front desk about switching your room. There’s a cheerleading camp here this week too. You must be next to one of their groups.”

“No. I’m fine.” I stop her before she pencils in her to-do list to demand a new room in this sold-out hotel. I’d say it’s impossible, but nothing is with Molly. “I haven’t been sleeping that great lately anyway and I have earplugs if it comes to that.”

Molly doesn’t look convinced, but she must decide we have bigger things to discuss. “Okay, well, keep me posted. I need you rested.”

“One more day. I’ll survive.” Today is the last day of the convention.

Tomorrow I’m having breakfast with Molly and Doreen to talk about promotional details for my upcoming release, but after that it’ll all be over.

And I’ll be free to do whatever I want, which in this case is to go see Nick.

I found a few flights, but I can’t decide if it’s better to run it by him or show up unannounced.

“Panels this morning, right?” I ask after taking another sip of coffee. I already feel better.

“Yes.” A hint of unease flickers in her expression.

“What’s that look?”

“They made a last-minute adjustment to the author lineup on your panel.”

It takes no time at all for me to read between the lines. There’s only one person at this entire event that I’d be unhappy about sitting next to. “Matt?”

I successfully avoided him all day yesterday and it was glorious.

Her mouth falls into a sympathetic smile. She doesn’t know that Becoming Alaric was my idea, but she does know that we dated, and that it didn’t end well. “We could pull you. I can tell them you are feeling under the weather or had a conflict in your schedule.”

“No.” I’m touched by the lengths she’s willing to go to protect me. “Thank you, but no. I’ll be all right.”

After a small hesitation, as if she’s giving me time to reconsider, she nods. “Okay.”

We walk through the massive hotel to the conference area and down another long hallway to find the room for the panel.

I peek inside. The chairs are already filled with readers and several of the authors are seated on the stage up front. Including Matt. He stands, instead of sitting, almost like he just can’t help himself and needs everyone to have a view of his perfectly polished, fake as hell, smile.

“Ready?” Molly asks.

I let out a slow, steadying breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

I look around for a trashcan to toss my coffee. Molly takes it and then hands me a mint and ChapStick.

“What would I do without you?” I take both items, slip the mint in my mouth and pocket the ChapStick for later.

“Have dry lips and coffee breath.” She beams. “Good luck.”

“Do I need luck?” I ask, too late. She’s already hurrying off, probably to add more meetings to my schedule.

I make my way along the side of the room to the front and then up the steps to join the other authors. Kenna is at the end of the table.

“Hey, Ruby,” she says.

“Morning.” I take the seat beside her, putting several people between me and Matt. I can’t avoid him completely but at least I don’t have to sit next to him.

A few minutes later, the event coordinator gives the panel moderator the thumbs-up to begin.

There are five authors across different genres.

We start off by introducing ourselves and then answering a few preplanned questions.

Once it’s opened to the audience, the questions are directed more at individual authors than the group.

To no one’s surprise, Matt is in the spotlight. Women love him, but men too. He has a mass appeal that I used to admire. Now I realize it’s all a show.

I get a few questions too. One reader wants to know if a side character from my first book is getting a story, and another reader asks me if I’ve ever considered writing a rugby romance.

Molly sits in the back, smiling at me and silently encouraging me to speak more than five words to answer each question.

The spotlight is not where I shine, but hopefully my appreciation and love for my readers and this community comes through.

“This one is for Matthew.” A woman holds the microphone up to her mouth, hiding a shy smile. “How did you come up with the idea for Becoming Alaric ? It’s such a unique concept.”

For the first time since I sat down, I look right at Matt. There’s absolutely no trace of discomfort or guilt on his face as he leans forward to speak into the mic in front of him.

“That’s a great question,” he says, grinning back at her.

What a fucking asshole.

“To be honest, I don’t remember exactly how it came to me.”

Like hell he doesn’t remember because I sure do. I can see him so vividly, sitting across from me and picking up my notebook.

“What’s this?” he asked as he flipped through the pages.

I’d been embarrassed to let him read it at the time. We’d only been dating a short time, and my idea notebook was sacred to me. I felt vulnerable sharing it with anyone. What if he thought my concepts were dumb or silly?

He’d said nothing when he’d finished reading it.

Not a single thing. We never spoke about it again and I’d all but forgotten about it until I saw his book deal announcement for a “vampire rom-com.” Still, I thought it must be a coincidence until I read the blurb.

He didn’t even bother changing the names of the characters.

A cold sweat forms at the back of my neck and my foot bounces under the table.

“Ideas come to me from lots of places. Conversations with friends, things I overhear as I’m traveling, dreams, and news headlines.”

The woman who asked the question looks disappointed by his answer but nods politely as she hands off the microphone to one of the event assistants.

“I can tell you that the inspiration for Autumn is based on an ex-girlfriend.” He holds a finger up to his lips like it’s a secret and the audience giggles.

Autumn is the hero’s girlfriend at the beginning of the book.

She was his addition and though I haven’t read it, I already knew, based on reviews and everything Lily had told me, that he was taking another jab at me.

Autumn is a redhead who is so clumsy she falls down a manhole and is killed off in chapter three before the hero meets the heroine of the story.

My cheeks burn.

“Okay, I think that’s all the time we have,” the moderator announces.

I’m already getting to my feet when a familiar deep voice booms from somewhere in the back of the room.

“I have a question,” he says.

People swivel to look from him to the moderator to see if she’s going to allow it, but Nick doesn’t wait for her go-ahead.

“This one is for Ruby Madison.” The way he says my name makes my stomach flutter.

My legs wobble as I take my seat again.

“In your upcoming novel, you dedicate it to your favorite grumpy hockey player.”

“Is that your question?” I ask him, smiling so hard I think my face might crack.

“It’s a little vague. One might be confused on who you meant. Any chance you want to tell us who it is?”

“Sorry. I promised to protect his identity.”

Nick’s mouth pulls up on one side.

“All right, everyone,” the moderator speaks more forcefully this time. “Thank you all for coming.”

I hurry off the stage, but there’s no getting through the mass of people between me and Nick. I push up on my toes and crane my neck to find him. I can’t spot him anywhere, but then a hand wraps around my wrist, and I’m being pulled to the side.

Nick smiles as I stumble toward him. He reaches out to steady me.

I stare at him, a little stunned, before throwing myself into his arms. It’s only when his arms wrap around my back and crush me to him that I truly believe he’s here.

“It’s really you,” I say into the crook of his neck.

“Hey, Red.” His voice rumbles in his chest.

I pull back only to look at him some more.

“You’re a hard woman to get to,” he says.

We’re still in the middle of a packed room and people are looking at him with curiosity and interest. Even if they don’t follow hockey, he looks the part of a professional athlete in his black athletic pants and fitted T-shirt.

“I feel like I’m dreaming. What are you doing here?”

He frames my face with both hands, then gazes at me like he’s refamiliarizing himself with it. “I’m so proud of you. All the people carrying your books around, dying to meet you. I took an elevator with your face on it.”

A laugh slips from my lips as he brings his mouth down on mine. His beard is back, and the feel is scratchy against my face.

All the panels are letting out now and the hallways are filled with people moving to the next event. Which means I don’t have a lot of time.

“How did you get in here?” I ask him.

“I bought a ticket.”

“They sold out months ago.”