Page 10 of Pick Me

A broken lock and lax building management meant that Meredith and I had secret rooftop access. We could tell that a few other

tenants in the building were aware of it as well, based on the cigarette butts that occasionally appeared (and we cleaned

up), but we’d never run into anyone else, so we considered it our private oasis.

It was a generous descriptor since the space wasn’t cute or even all that comfortable, especially in the summer. The heat

forced us to sit in the shadows of an ancient wood water tower, near the peaked skylight over the staircase and a big metal

humming box. Still, we made the most of it, stringing up some star-shaped, solar-powered lights Meredith had found at IKEA

and stashing our beach chairs behind the box.

Thanks to a break in the weather, it was the perfect night to picnic with our dinner takeout, courtesy of Colton. I’d been

worried about his ability to step up when Meredith got hurt, seeing as he was a quintessential handsome good-time guy, but

he’d gone all out since her accident. I was a happy beneficiary of the bouquets and takeout meals dotting our apartment.

“Mere told me you had your first lesson with the Big Gripper,” Colton said. He was forced to sit on a blanket since we only

had two roof chairs. “How was it?”

I held up a finger as I chewed my massive bite of falafel sandwich.

I’d been trying to figure out how I felt about the lesson, because Owen had made me question a long-held truth about myself; maybe I wasn’t hopeless when it came to sports?

Of course, my performance at lesson number one was downright embarrassing, but it was his

insistence about the mental side of the game that made me wonder if maybe I could mind over matter my way to passable skills?

“I thought he was just this big, friendly dude, but he’s sort of a taskmaster,” I answered.

Colton nodded as he threw back a Modelo. “Yeah, I’ve heard he has a split personality. Nicest guy in the real world but a

killer on the court, both as a player and instructor. He played tennis at Princeton and he was really good, so I guess you can’t get away from that kind of drive.”

“Oh, one hundred percent,” Meredith said as she shifted and propped her boot up on the wall next to her. “For me, the hardest

part of moving from dance auditions to teaching Pilates was letting go of feeling like I had to ‘win’ every class. I still

get a little bit of that competitive feeling even now when I’m in a room of other instructors. Striving to be the best becomes

a part of your DNA.”

I was tangentially aware of that drive, thanks to Wes and my parents, but I’d never come close to experiencing it for myself.

We’d all figured out that my role in the family was sidelines cheerleader. I even refused to do anything ball-centric in the

yard with Wes and my dad growing up, because every casual game somehow turned into real competitions, and all I had to offer

was comic relief.

“Did you have fun?” Colton asked.

I tipped my head as I considered it. “Um, not exactly? But I’m on a mission, so . . .”

“Right.” Colton nodded. “Meredith told me. That Kai guy. Talk about a killer on the courts.”

“Don’t say that,” I griped as I fell back against my chair. “I need to feel like I have a chance to play with him.”

“Hey, if anyone can get you there, it’s Grip. Just do everything he says and you should be golden.”

I’d actually been putting in the work in preparation for our second lesson in just twelve hours. My forehand paddle skills

had improved to me doing twenty ball juggles in a row, but my backhand was still dicey. My perfectionist tendencies meant

that any time I had a writing lull I found myself reaching for the paddle to practice, which I discovered was sort of the

equivalent of squashing a stress ball.

“How much did you write today?” Meredith asked. “Is breathing the same air as your crush at CPA helping?”

The corner of my mouth turned up. “Yeah, I guess it sort of is. I managed to plow through a healthy thousand words that I

don’t hate.”

“Any spice?” Colton waggled his eyebrows at me.

I shook my head. “Sadly, no. Austin is currently dealing with a fence line dispute with the ranch next door.”

“And how’s the brainstorming going for your next Brooke book, hmm?” Meredith asked as she polished off her shawarma.

Colton swiveled to look at me. “You’re going to write a book under your own name?”

“Yes, she is,” Meredith answered for me. “Brooke has an outstanding balance at the Bank of Waxman, and the only accepted payment

is in the form of a book deal advance.”

I reached for a second beer, which was a bad idea considering how early I needed to be up. “I might have a rough concept.”

“Wait, what ?” Meredith slammed her hands on her beach chair armrests and screeched at me, causing the pigeons congregating above us to

fly away. “You do? Tell me everything!”

The idea had come to me in the shower, which happened frequently enough to make me consider buying a waterproof whiteboard.

The concepts didn’t stop; it was my willingness to plot them out that was the issue. The moment I tried to flesh out my stories,

the self-doubt from the Truth and Beauty failure hijacked my creative impulses.

“I don’t know everything yet; it’s just a thunderstorm of thoughts at the moment,” I answered. “But it feels very different for me. A new

genre.” I cocked an eyebrow to build suspense.

“Well?” Meredith rolled her hand in the air to urge me to spill it.

“Romantasy.”

“ Ooh ,” Meredith and Colton said in unison.

“That’s big money,” Colton said. “I read an article about some woman who started off self-publishing romantasy stuff, and

now she’s got, like, an empire. They’re making a movie based on her series. Maybe it’ll work out the same for you?”

I gave him the same indulgent smile I used on my parents’ friends when they asked when someone was going to turn one of my ghostwritten books into a movie.

“Sadly, that’s the exception, not the rule.

If Margo Delgato still hasn’t had one of her books adapted, the likelihood for little old me is nil.

Her fantasy and romantasy books have been on the bestseller list for years .

And give me a chance to start writing the darn thing before we start dreaming up getting optioned. ”

I wasn’t convinced that the idea would grow beyond the seedling stage.

“This is perfect,” Meredith said. “You’re going to finish up The Rancher’s Black Market Baby , then get to work on this other book.”

“Why not both?” I asked, ignoring her purposeful title mangling.

The idea of writing two Liaison books at the same time felt impossible, but somehow my new concept kept edging me closer to

attempting a twofer, or if I agreed to write the rest of the cowboy series, a fourfer. The pull to sketch out a few basic

plot points had me scribbling ideas in the back of my notebook during sanctioned Austin and Abby time.

“Okay, make it happen, then,” Meredith replied, as pushy as ever.

After a dozen false starts with other books, she probably didn’t believe that I’d see this one through.

Colton’s phone chimed and he paused to read the text. “Here we go. Invitation to the official party of the summer is secured .”

“Oh, yay, the Hamptons over the Fourth of July holiday.” Meredith frowned. “We better leave now if we want to make it on time.”

When we’d moved to the city together after college, Meredith and I had done the Hamptons pilgrimage on a few weekends and

decided that the overcrowded shared house situation and long lines at the bars weren’t for us.

Colton pointed at me. “You’re coming too, right?”

Meredith did prayer hands under her chin. “You can be my boot buddy when I want to leave the party early.”

“Whose party is it?” I asked.

“A guy from another firm in our building. I don’t know him well, but I tapped a few mutual friends to put in the good word

for me and now we’re in. My boss said we can stay at his place in Sag Harbor for two nights since he’s still in France.”

“How many other people will be staying there?” I asked. I was too old to subject myself to fighting for sleeping space. “Because

I aged out of sharing rooms a million years ago.”

“Agreed,” Meredith said.

“Aged out? Please, you’re not even thirty yet. Anyway, it’s just us,” he answered. “My boss said he’d kill me if we invited

extra people over. Check it out.”

Colton scrolled on his phone, then held it out to me. The gray-shingled home in the photos was stunning and plenty big, plus

it had a pool.

But I still wasn’t in a party frame of mind.

“Honestly, I think I want to just chill over the holiday...”

“I believe that someone is still contractually required to say yes,” Meredith reminded me. “Plus, I guarantee you’ll get tons

of inspo during the trip.”

I frowned at her. “Please tell me how a ritzy beach town and a Montana ranch are related.”

Although we both knew that she was right. Getting me out of the apartment and into new scenarios always turned up something

usable, even if it was only an unimportant side plot. But hey, word count was word count.

“Um, hold on you two.” Colton looked up from his phone and at me. “I have an update that might change your mind, Brooke.”

Meredith and I stared at him.

“The hosts of the party both work for Atria Capital. And you know who else does?”

He held his phone out to me, and there on the screen was a LinkedIn bio for none other than a stupidly handsome Mr. Kai Dorset.

“Okay. I’m in.”