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“I did, but it’s always been my most popular, and I thought perhaps there were a few more stories to tell. It’s a novella, a bridging story between the original books and a new set of novels that’ll start coming out next year.”
“Oh. My. God.”
Lewis doesn’t have to be told to buy a copy—he just does it, transferring the book pile to one hand to do so. I ask Aurora to sign the new novella too, then I get a picture with her because . . . well, of course I want a photo with Aurora McKenna.
By the end of this event, I’ll have a whole series of snaps of me posing with the most amazing authors. I can’t imagine I’ll be interested in receiving any more images from Lewis—why would I when I can look back through my memories of today? Dick pics were so yesterday.
After saying a reluctant goodbye and leaving the table, I say to Lewis, “I can’t believe that just happened. We actually met her!”
“Do you realise you referred to me as your boyfriend when you were speaking with her?” He seems pretty chuffed about it.
“Did I? Oh, don’t read anything into that. I was overwhelmed—I wasn’t thinking straight. Besides, it would have taken too long to explain our actual relationship.”
Lewis’s grin doesn’t waver in the slightest, but I don’t have time to worry about that. I need to replay every second of that meeting and relish it all. I don’t even know what she wrote in my books! I open my copy of Rival Clans, Secret Riches to see.
To Iona,
I was pleased to hear this book “inspired” you and your boyfriend!
Aurora McKenna x
Lewis glances over my shoulder and reads the inscription. “Ha! ‘Boyfriend’. If your hero thinks that’s who I am, why don’t we just make it official?”
“Nice try, but don’t go getting any ideas. You’re only my literary packhorse, not my knight in shining armour. Now, giddy-up! It’s time for you to trot along to the next table.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
IONA
“I don’t see what the problem is. We’ve each got our own bed.” Lewis sets down our overnight bags.
“The problem, Lewis, is that they’re in the same room.”
He’s booked us into a luxury hotel with an incredible view of the castle. I can see it through our window, illuminated in soft golden light, standing majestically against the night sky. The room itself radiates extravagance and, yes, there are two beds, each adorned with crisp white sheets and deep burgundy throws. But when Lewis assured me about the sleeping arrangements, I’d pictured two separate rooms—not this.
“It might be fun, no? Means we get to hang out a while longer. Remember when we were young and had sleepovers?”
I cross my arms. “That stopped when we hit puberty, Lewis. Presumably because our parents didn’t trust us in a room together.”
“True, but we’re twenty-seven now—mature enough to control our baser instincts, right?”
I drum my fingers on my crossed arm and narrow my eyes.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets then rocks back on his heels. “Shit, Iona, I don’t want to bring money into this, but . . . this place wasn’t cheap! Two rooms would have been a stretch—especially after the number of books you bought today.” He grins, attempting to lighten the mood, but when I don’t reciprocate, his smile falters. “Crap. All right, I’ll go down to reception and see if there are any other rooms going. If not, I should be able to find somewhere nearby.”
He hoists his bag back up. “You stay here. I’ll, er, see you in the morning, all right?”
A pang of guilt hits me. “Wait! You have spent a lot on me these last few weeks, and . . . well, I appreciate you’re not some hero from a billionaire romance. I suppose I should leave you with something in your bank account. You’re right, we’re old enough to be able to keep our hands to ourselves.”
His face brightens again. “It’s really not a problem for me to go, if you’d rather that. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Stay. I trust you can behave yourself. And you’re right, maybe it will be fun to have a sleepover. Besides, I’m not ready for sleep yet, but after being on my feet all day, I don’t have the energy to go out again. It’d be a shame to cut things short and go to different rooms.”
“If you’re sure, that’d be amazing because I don’t think I could walk any further.” He collapses on a high-backed chair by the window and leans back with his hands behind his head, stretching out his long legs.
When we picked up our overnight bags from the car, we left my purchases there. Lewis didn’t complain once all day about having to carry my books around, but even with his strength, it must have been tiring. Perhaps a suitcase with wheels would have been a better idea.
I lay claim to the bed on the left and, sitting, kick off my shoes and rub my aching feet.
