The Muse and the Fairy Tale (New Hampshire Bears #1) (2 page)

Chapter
Two

Kyson

I rubbed my temples as I listened to Arden, my agent, and Kian, my brother and manager, debate this project. They both wanted me to do it.

“Stop! Stop for two seconds.” I finally had enough. “Why do you want me to do this?”

“Because it’ll show how personable you are, and it’s great coverage,” Arden started.

“Plus, this could widen your fan base,” Kian added.

“Don’t I have a say?” I gave them both pointed glares.

“Yes, Kyson, you do.” Kian backed down a bit.

“Give me this author’s info, and I’ll talk to her. If I think it’s a good fit, I’ll let you know.” I stood up from the table. “I think we’re done.”

Kian followed me out of Arden’s office. “Kyson.”

I stopped and turned to him. “It’s my career and my face on the cover, right?”

Kian nodded.

“Then I’ll be the one to approve it.” I stormed off to the parking garage and out onto the New York City streets.

I didn’t get far considering traffic was a nightmare. I hated driving. Normally, Kian would drive, but he had his own car to handle more errands.

While I was sitting at the red light, my cell alerted me of an email. Since I wasn’t going anywhere, I checked to see it was from Arden with the information for Meadow Hylton.

I couldn’t figure out why this chick wanted me on a cover. Of a book no less. I wasn’t one to read a lot, or really at all for that matter. They’ll eventually make the good ones into movies anyway. So, what was the point?

I tossed my phone into the seat next to me and figured I’d deal with it later.

I made it back to my hotel room without having a road rage episode, even though I did do a lot of cussing, mostly under my breath. I was much more tired than I should have been, but the last month had been nothing but stressful.

Heading up to the New Hampshire Bears was a great move. I’d done it in hopes I would make it to the Finals. I’ve been in the Professional Hockey League for six years now, and I haven’t made it once. In addition, the change of scenery would be good for me, and I’d get away from
her.

I fell into the desk chair, which was the most uncomfortable chair in the world. My computer, well Kian’s really, was on, and since I had a few moments to spare, I decided to check out this author chick. I never needed my own computer; I actually really didn’t know much about them. I’d check emails occasionally, look up stats on the PHL site of other players, and maybe the news, if I was bored, but nothing else. The one place I posted the most at was Instagram. Anyone could take a picture and toss in some hashtags. Simple. Easy. Perfect for me.

After checking Arden’s email, I went to her Facebook page first. She was a sports fan and a big time author by the looks of it. She had over ten thousand followers. I jumped over to Amazon and saw she wrote Sports Romance.

Sports Romance?

Is that a thing?

She had many good reviews and mostly they commented about the sex in her books, not to mention the romance. After I scrolled through some more reviews, then Tweets, I clicked on her Instagram page, and there it was…her
cat
.

“Puckhead.”

Talk about a cool name.

The cat was fat, orange, and in almost every picture. With books, by the TV, everywhere.

Crazy cat lady
would be my first thought about her. She obviously had no family because this was the cat’s page. At least, it seemed to be. Suddenly, I became more curious about her, and I didn’t know why. She was passionate; I’d give her that one. She seemed dedicated and forthcoming to her fans.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing after all.

I took a shot in the dark and messaged her. Not really sure why, but I’d made worse decisions in my life.

Ms. Hylton, I’m Kyson Wick and would like to discuss your project proposal further.

I didn’t think she’d respond fast, but almost instantly, the bubble came up showing she was typing.

Mr. Wick, I didn’t send a proposal. All I asked was if you’d be interested and then we could discuss it more.

Sassy; I liked it.

My manager, Kian, only gave me a shortened version of your email conversation. I still have questions.

What would they be?

I chuckled, wanting to rile her up a bit and see what she was really like.

Will I be showing my dick on the cover?

Good Lord, no! It’s not porn. It’s a book cover.

According to some reviews, you write some steamy scenes.

This is true, but that isn’t on the cover. Well, not a lot of it anyway.

Why me?

I was curious why, out of all the players, she’d picked me.

You’re a Bear. I like the Bears, and I think you’ll be perfect for the cover.

Simple and to the point. She doesn’t beat around the bush, and I liked that, too.

Fair enough. Why don’t you go ahead and send the proposal over to Kian? I’ll look it over.

Thank you.

Since I was now done with having fun with the author, it was time to find out where my brother was and find something to eat.

Manchester wasn’t as I pictured. Sure, I’d been here before playing in the PHL, but I’d never really looked at it. It wasn’t a bad place. I would have called it a town, though. I was raised in Chicago, and this place was a town in my eyes, albeit, a nice town.

“What else?” Kian was sitting on our couch with his feet propped up on a box.

“I just need to unpack since the movers are finished.” I couldn’t be a pack rat, since I’d moved around the past few seasons.

Kian and I had picked a simple two-bedroom apartment near the downtown arena. I didn’t like being too far from the arena because I liked not having to worry about being late for a game.

Since Kian was older by fifteen years and needed a workspace, I gave him the master bedroom. I know a lot of the guys talked about the fact Kian and I were so close, but I couldn’t care less. He was the only family I had left, and he’d sacrificed a lot for me to be in the PHL. Hell, he was almost forty, and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out.

Our mother died when I was eighteen, and Kian made sure I followed my dream of being in the PHL. Because of him, I was here. I paid him a salary, a good one, but we always ended up living together. I never minded it. I enjoyed my brother a lot more than some strange, shady roommate, or being alone. Besides, most of the year, I was on the road with the team.

“I’m going to start on my room.” I headed down the hall.

“Have you thought about the cover, yet?”

“Did she send a proposal over?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see it and I’ll give you an answer.” I had a sudden flash that I’d be shirtless and fans would be blowing my hair for wind effects.

“I’ll email it.” He seemed baffled.

Normally, I don’t care about the business side. That’s why I had Kian and Arden. All my focus was on hockey now, even though the past year it hadn’t been. This was going to be my year. The one where everyone stood up and took notice of me and my talent on the ice. I could feel it.

I started putting my clothes away, arranging them in the order I liked. I wasn’t really too particular, but it
was
easier to pack when it was organized. I learned that the hard way when I forgot to pack some essentials and had to go without.

When a lot of my stuff was unpacked and put in their rightful place, I flipped open my tablet which I used to watch movies on and stretched out on the bed. I already saw my emails leering at me, but I focused on one from Kian.

The proposal was in the subject line and I clicked to open it. I skimmed the extremely detailed proposal. My own PHL contract wasn’t even this descriptive and they paid me a hell of a lot more. She even outlined each photo, clothes I would wear, my hairstyle and…my eyebrows. Seriously? Who was this woman? I’ve never been subjected to anything like this before, and I doubted it would ever happen again.

I wasn’t sure if the fees were right because I wasn’t sure what a cover model made. I remembered the long-haired, blond guy made a lot of money being on a million covers.

What was his name?

Fido?

No matter his name, I wasn’t as sure as everyone else was about this. I needed more info. I opened my Facebook messenger and went back through our short but lively conversation.

Looked over the proposal.

And…

She quickly replied.

And I looked it over it.

I’m not sure what that means.

It means I looked over it.
I chuckled as I continued the ruse.

So, are you going to do it or not?

Do it? Are you talking sex? Because ‘do it’ sounds childish
.

I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about the cover.

I need to know more about this book.

It’s a romance about a hockey captain who falls for a much older woman.

What else?
The subject sounded interesting to me.

That’s it.

Sounds boring.
Even though it did, I was sure there was more to it.

Well, it’s more in depth, but I’m giving you the CliffsNotes version.

Is there a lot of sex?

Some.

Kinky?

To a degree.

Whips? Chains? Handcuffs?

No. No. Yes.

Yes? I sat straight up. Maybe I should buy these stories and read them. No, why would I do that? I wasn’t a reader.

I need to get more unpacking done. I’ll make my decision soon.

I’ll need to know soon. I’m on a deadline.

I chuckled. How cute. A deadline.

Chap
ter Three

Meadow

I was able to push out almost three thousand words in one day, and I was proud of myself, so proud I ate almost a whole sleeve of Oreos. But now, nothing was coming out of my mind.

“This isn’t healthy.” I stuffed the last cookie into my mouth. “Puckhead, why did you make me eat all of these?” I asked my lazy cat. Of course, he said nothing.

“Should I go to the gym? Or to the grocery store?”

I looked around my house. I should be doing laundry, vacuuming, or something besides stretching out stuffing my face with bad calories and sugar.

My phone began to ring and I smiled at the display.

“How is the world’s greatest editor?”

“Fat. Tired.”

“You’re not fat, but I’m sure you’re tired. How are you really doing?”

Harlow Goldsmith sighed over the phone. “I’m busy. However, I need to know why I don’t have your first half yet. Want to take a moment and explain that to me?”

“Aliens ate it. I fought diligently, but they took it.” I fake sobbed. “It was horrific. I’m traumatized for life.”

There was a brief silence before Harlow responded. “Ever thought about becoming an actress?”

We busted into laughter together. Harlow had been with me since the beginning of my writing career. She tore apart my first book, but I learned so much from her and not just about my writing. She was loud, smart, and above all, loyal. She was my one true friend.

“Okay, I’m sorry about the manuscript. I’ve been trying to find my mojo, but it’s more of slow drip than an open faucet.”

“I understand how you flow, don’t worry about it. I have some other projects to work on, but you’ve already announced the release date, so it’s crunch time, little lady.”

“I know.” Harlow was right. I needed to get on the ball.

I agreed to meet with Harlow later in the week, and I promised I would have more of a manuscript for her.

“You better.” She disconnected the call, and I blew out some air frustration.

“What am I going to do, Puckhead?” I glanced over at my cat, who still curled up at the end of the couch.

I needed to figure out something and soon. I lifted my lazy-writers-block ass off my couch and went back to my computer. I flipped, scrolled, and clicked through every tab, every note I’d jotted any idea on, but nothing broke through my wall, which was blocking my thoughts. I might have written a lot of words today, but I needed more and I could feel myself stalling.

I noticed my messages and began to run through them, but I stopped at one. Kyson. What was it about this kid? He was playful, young, hot…okay…very hot.

“Well, I have finally learned the term
cougar
,” I told my computer screen, scrolling through our messages.

Then the lightbulb went off inside my head: a story scene exploded and I feverishly begin to write it out.

Four whole chapters spilled across the screen, and my fingers hurt from typing so fast. This was great. I was so proud of myself I rewarded me with a nap.

Forty-eight hours rolled by, and the words continued to keep coming. It didn’t hurt I kept checking Kyson’s updates on all his media sites. Apparently, he really loved his Instagram account. He fueled my fury of words. Harlow’s email came at the perfect time to check up on my work, and I printed off my story. Well, what I had so far.

I walked into The Latte Bean. It was the most popular coffee house in Manchester. The owners were an older woman, Bobbe Keating, and her wife, Joy. They were adored by everyone who stepped foot into The Latte Bean, because they treated everyone as family. Even their workers were loyal to them. It was one of my favorite places.

I ordered the biggest latte, found a table in the corner, and waited for Harlow. I stared out the window and watched people strolling up and down the street. The crisp fall air showed signs of winter approaching. I loved winter. I loved snow. I loved being wrapped up in a blanket watching the thick snowflakes fall from the sky. I loved it all.

The chime alerted me to someone walking in, and there was Harlow. She knew how to make an entrance. Harlow was five foot ten and the tallest women I knew. She had long auburn hair and blue eyes. My shade of blue was dull compared to hers. She had youthful skin and you’d never guess she was forty.

“Bitch, I’ve been trying to find a place to park, or I would have been here fifteen damn minutes ago.”

And she cussed. A lot.

“I just arrived a few moments ago. It’s no biggie.”

“Let me grab an espresso, and then we can get down to business.” She rushed up to the counter and placed her order. When she came back, she took a seat across from me and sipped her drink. “All right, I’m ready.”

I handed her the first half of the book. She thumbed through it and nodded absently. “Great.”

“Great as in good or bad.”

“Neither,” she scowled. “I’ll have it done within the week. Now, tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Same ole, same ole.” I shrugged.

“Bullshit.”

“Fine, I’m trying to get Kyson Wick on the cover.”

“Kyson Wick? That name sounds familiar.” She picked up her phone, and I knew she was Googling him.

“He plays for the Bears and was recently traded here.” I gave her the abridged version.

“Wow. Call me cougar and spank my ass. He’s hot.”

I choked on my coffee at her words. Nothing she says should surprise me, but she always seemed to do it when I had liquid in my mouth.

“When’s the shoot? And most importantly am I going to meet Mr. Hot?”

I laughed. “I said I was trying. He’s not said yes, yet.”

“Work your charm. You can talk anyone into anything.”

“That’s not true,” I scoffed at her.

“Um, yes, it is. You talk me into all sorts of things.”

“Such as?”

“Editing full-time. Drinking red wine.”

“Hey, the wine wasn’t me.”

Harlow grinned. “Nonetheless, you can convince him to do it. Work your magic.”

I sighed. “Maybe. He has been talking to me on Facebook.”

“See! Just strike up a friendship, and he’ll come around.”

“He wouldn’t be the first guy to turn me down.”

“Men suck. At our age, we already know this. But maybe you can have fun with Mr. Hot and Young.”

“I’m not going to sleep with him. He’s ten years younger than I am.” I was shocked she’d even suggest it. Yes, he was hot, but too young for me.

“I’m saying dip your oil on his stick, not marry the kid.”

I snorted. “Harlow, you have the best way to describe anything and everything.”

“It’s a gift.” She smiled.

When I left Harlow, I seriously thought about what she said. I’ve not talked to Kyson in over a week, and it was getting down to crunch time.

“I have charm.” I said, logging into Facebook and bringing up my messages. “Use my charm.” I gave myself one more pep talk as I began to type.

Hi, Kyson. I wanted to see if you made a decision yet on being my cover model.

I didn’t think he would answer quickly, but he did.

Yes.

Yes, as in you’ll do it.

No.

So, you won’t do it?

No.

I scrunched my face in confusion. This wasn’t helping me add on the charm.

Are you going to do it? Answer yes or no.

Possibly.

I growled in frustration.

You’re being an ass.

Okay, I shouldn’t have sent that or called him an ass, because it wasn’t professional, but he was being one.

LOL. Not the first time someone has called me an ass.

It doesn’t shock me people have called you one either.

I read one of your books.

I read his message ten times before it finally registered what he said. Why did he read one of my books? Which one did he read?

I really enjoyed Tricia getting tied up by Marco.

“Shit,” I exclaimed. Of course, he read
Stages
first. I was going through my BDSM phase when I wrote
Stages
.
Stages
was just one sex scene after another.

Was that scene based off personal experience?

I plead the fifth.

Ah, so Ms. Hylton has kinky side. I will say a few pages made me blush.

Now, I was curious about which scene.

Did you watch a lot of porn to get those scenes down?

I rolled my eyes.

No to the porn, and I’m not telling you whether I have a kinky side or not.

Not answering if you have a kinky side means you have one.

It does not.

How the hell did we go from as about a book cover to my sex life?

Does too! I bet you have a sex room. All decked out with whips and chains.

For your information, I only have two bedrooms in my house. One has a bed free of whips and chains. The other is my office.

All right then, you have a sex shed.

“I do not,” I shouted at the last message. Puckhead raised his head and glared at me because I disturbed his napping. “Sorry, but he’s an ass.” Puckhead laid his head down again. He obviously doesn’t care.

Look, all I want to know is if you’re doing the cover.

Several moments passed before the next message appeared.

Yes.

“Hell yes.” I raised my arms in victory.

The contract was signed yesterday. Arden should call you within the next couple days to set up a time for the shoot.

Thank you, Kyson.

No problem =)