Fearless by Abby Brooks (best books for 8th graders .txt) 📗

break into her house again, I dropped the topic and moved on.

“You ready to think about work stuff?”

“I was born ready.” A blush colored her cheeks and she sat back down, laughing into her lap. “That sounded cooler in my head.”

I shuffled through the mess of papers in my bag and found the contract my lawyer drafted over the weekend. The corners were creased, and I had to brush dirt off the back before I put them on her table, but other than that, they were no worse for wear after my unplanned exit. “This outlines salary and job expectations. Editing. Revising. Basically, I want you to be the first eyes on my new manuscript and talk through the storyline with me.” I outlined the non-disclosure clause my lawyer made me add, then slid the contract her way. “Just needs your scribble on the dotted line and we can get started.”

Evie flipped through the pages, her eyes widening when she saw the salary. “This feels too good to be true.”

“You know what they say about that statement.”

“If it sounds too good to be true, it is? What are you hiding in here?” She frowned, shuffling through the papers, looking for a clause she missed.

“I’m demanding. A perfectionist. I fight one sentence for weeks before I scrap the entire paragraph.” And I broke into her house this morning simply because I knew I’d write better here than at home. “You’re gonna earn that money.”

She stumbled into my life like she stumbled into the kitchen. Bare. Open. Eager for me to see all she had to offer…

The sentence went into my slush pile doc while Evie signed her name. “There you go. Consider me yours.”

I flipped to the manuscript open on my laptop, then spun the device around and slid it in front of her. “Read.”

“Read?” Surprise lifted her lovely face. “Now?”

I nodded. “Read.”

Her fingers splayed as she adjusted the laptop, gripping it with her thumb and forefingers, as if she’d dirty the thing by touching it. Shaking her head and blowing a long breath passed pursed lips, she leaned in and started the story. I watched her face, searching for the surprise, the fear, the enjoyment. As she wandered the twisty paths of the first seven chapters, I sought out any sign I’d elicited an emotional response. Her expression stayed neutral. Not the reaction I hoped for.

Maybe she had a poker face.

Maybe she was intentionally hiding her feelings.

Maybe…

“How honest do you want me to be?” She closed the laptop, her face completely, maddeningly unreadable.

“Brutally.”

“Do you mean that?” She sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap. “Think before you answer. Do you really want me to be brutally honest? Or do you want me to pretend I’m being brutally honest while I tell you everything you want to hear? Because—”

“Damn it, woman,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Put me out of my misery already.”

No one gave feedback with a preamble like that unless they had bad news. I prepared for the worst even as I hoped for the best.

“The writing is great. But…” She licked her lips, and I died a thousand deaths.

“But?”

“The sentences are evocative. Beautiful, even. Each of them is technically perfect and pristine. But…” She took a deep breath and I considered removing the word ‘but’ from all of my stories. It was a vile thing that made me sick. “The plot isn’t going anywhere. It’s sterile. Nothing’s happened in seven chapters but technically perfect sentences.”

I dropped my gaze to the table. Swallowed hard as I rubbed my hands along my jeans. Even though it was the feedback I was expecting, I hated to hear it. That meant weeks of work would need to be revised. Maybe scrapped altogether. My eyes closed as I rubbed a temple.

I’d never missed a deadline before this. My publishers had already extended this one three times and Brighton made it clear patience was running thin. What the fuck was I going to do? My career was at stake and now I’d have to start from scratch because the pages I had been able to write were freaking “sterile.”

“Oh, God.” Evie cringed. “You didn’t want real honesty! Can this day get any worse? I’m so sorry…”

I placed a hand on hers, intending to calm her down but the action had the opposite effect on me, so I dropped it to my lap. This was not the time to yank her out of her chair and kiss her until I remembered how to write good stories. “You gave me exactly what I asked for. There’s a problem with the plot. I’ve known it, but just didn’t want to face it. That’s probably why I have writer’s block in the first place. I know something’s broken.”

“I wouldn’t go all the way to broken. Most writers would feel blessed to write something like that.” She gestured to my laptop.

“Right. Because everyone wants to write something sterile.” I sat back and met her eyes. “Don’t soften your words to protect my ego, Evie. Speak truth. Even when you don’t think I’ll like it.”

Her gaze held mine as thoughts ticked away behind her eyes. If only I could read her better…

“Okay.” She nodded like she’d come to a conclusion. “If you want truth, then so do I.”

And here it comes, I thought. She’s gonna ask me about being in her kitchen this morning. Or about the kiss last night. Holy shit. I’ve known this woman for three days and have already complicated the fuck out of everything.

Evie took a deep breath and I steeled myself for whatever came next as her eyes met mine. “Why are you, a man who surely has agents and editors and people way more qualified than I will ever be, paying someone like me to tell you these things? Why hire a stranger who got fired from a small newspaper to say something you already know? You are Lord and Master, Sir Alexander the Glorious, after all.”

Relief hit me hard.