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Dinner went surprisingly well, given that Brynlee sat with her steak knife tucked into the side of her plate the entire time as if she was afraid she would need to use it at any given moment. I tried to make conversation, but it was hard with her still putting up walls every time. I knew she still felt uneasy being in the cabin with someone she didn’t know, so I took my victory in getting her to eat the dinner I made instead of her tuna packet.
“I’ll do the dishes,” I offered as we cleared our plates and took them to the sink.
“Is that so you can make sure you get all of the fingerprints off yours first?” she asked, but there was a spark of humor in her eyes for once.
“You really don’t trust me, do you?” I shook my head with a grin plastered across my face.
I understood how unnerving it had to be to be forced into staying with a complete stranger, but I wished I could make her see that I would never in a million years ever think of hurting her. The only time I would ever consider hurting someone was if it was in self-defense or to protect another.
“I don’t know you,” she replied with a shrug as she squirted some soap onto a washrag and began cleaning her plate.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, stepping beside her with a towel to dry the dishes. “I’m an open book.”
Apparently, she was going to help whether I wanted her to or not.
“I find it odd that you’re an open book, yet you write under a pen name,” she said softly, looking up at me under dark lashes.
“When I wrote my first book, my agent advised me to write it under a pen name. She said it would do better if people thought a woman wrote it. So we launched it under F.E. Tish, and things just skyrocketed from there,” I answered, setting the clean plate on the counter as she washed mine.
“How did you come up with your pen name?”
“It’s going to sound childish, but I couldn’t think of anything original. Everything my agent proposed sounded like I was an eighty-year-old woman who wanted to talk about burning loins. I couldn’t get on board with that and wanted something different. Something that gave me the ability to write what I wanted to.”
“Does F.E. Tish have a special meaning to it? Is it someone’s initials?” she questioned, lowering her head as she focused on the dishes.
“Nope. It’s actually just the word fetish broken up. F. E. Tish. Nothing special, but I felt like it represented what I wrote, given my books tend to involve fetishes and embracing your sexuality.”
“The complete opposite of an eighty-year-old woman with burning loins,” she teased with a soft laugh. I loved the sound of it and wondered how I could get more out of her.
“Definitely,” I laughed. “So, what about you? What got you into writing thrillers?”
She inhaled deeply, letting it slowly flow through her lips before answering.
“I’ve always loved horror, and growing up, I couldn’t get enough of Stephen King. I would reread his books when I ran out of stuff to read. It always fascinated me, and I felt this longing to write one of my own, so I went for it.”
“How long have you been published?”
“My debut novel was released a little over a year ago. Since then, I have released one more, and the one I’m working on will be book three in the series. There will be six total.”
Her cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink as she looked away again, this time to grab our glasses from the counter beside her.
“Congratulations. That’s an amazing accomplishment.”
“Thank you. It’s not quite as big as yours.”
“Size doesn’t always matter,” I joked before I could stop myself.
She turned and looked at me with a shocked expression before she burst into laughter. A soap-covered hand flew out of the water to cover her mouth as she laughed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a guy admit that before,” she said, giggles still coming from her lips.
“Well, it’s true. And a lot of guys wouldn’t admit half the stuff I would.” I shrugged, knowing her curiosity was now piquing.
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
Now, I had her right where I wanted her.
“Hmmm,” I said, thinking about what would actually impress her. “I’m also an only child. I didn’t have any pets, but I always thought I would be that guy who had a cool pet—like a boa constrictor or iguana. I was the popular kid in school but always felt lonely because no one ever took the time to get to know me. The only thing they cared about was others thinking they were cool because they hung out with me. Christmas is my favorite holiday. And I cried during Love Actually when he brings the sign to declare his love for her, even though she’s married to his best friend.”
She turned off the water to face me, studying me carefully.
“You told me a lot of personal stuff when you thought I was a serial killer, so I thought I would start there,” I replied with a shrug.
“I’m sorry you were lonely growing up.”
“Thanks. It’s okay. Things turned out the way they were supposed to. Very few people know my pen name, which helps keep my relationships real instead of people wanting to be friends with a bestselling author.”
“Well, my friend knows it now,” she said, scrunching her face. “I told her your real name and sent a picture. But she won’t tell anyone, I promise. It was just in case you, you know...”
“Killed you?” I offered with a grin.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told her. I didn’t know you kept it that much of a secret.”
“It’s alright. It’s hard enough to keep it a secret as it is. My agent wants me to consider doing some book signings and press releases when the next series starts, but I haven’t decided yet. But eventually, people will know who I am.”
“Your fans love you. I’m sure they’ll be pleasantly surprised to see you’re a man, not a woman.”
“But not you, right?” I teased. “You’re not one of those fans?”
She eyed me cautiously as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.
“I’m undecided.”
“Fair enough.” I laughed, stacking the rest of the dishes on the counter to put them away.
“I mean, I think the thing that really gets me is that you cried during Love Actually.”
I turned around and faced her head on, my grin spreading across my cheeks.
“Have you seen it?”
She shook her head.
“No, but friends have told me about it. But I mean, there had to be a better solution than him just writing her a note and wasting all of those cards.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What would you have done differently?” I asked, leaning my hip against the counter.
“That’s easy. I would have had him kill the best friend so he could be with her. If they were truly meant to be together, then remove the obstacle.”
My eyebrows shot up my forehead.
“What?” She laughed. “What would you have done, Mr. Romance Author?”
“I would have kept his friend alive—dear Lord, Brynlee, it’s a Christmas movie!”
“Yeah, but if the friend is in the way, you have to deal with it. Otherwise, they can’t be together and have their happily ever after.” She lifted her fingers to do air quotes.
“Sure they can.” I folded my arms over my chest, loving that she was finally engaging with me.
“Okay, how?”
“Easy—they all end up together.”
“Like a threesome?”
“Or a throuple.”
Her brows pinched together.
“It’s when three people are in a committed relationship. They all unanimously agree to be in a romantic, loving relationship together with the consent of everyone involved. So yeah, they could be together without having to kill off the friend since they both technically love him, too.”
“We live in two very different worlds,” she muttered jokingly with a grin.