No Words: A Novel (Little Bridge Island Book 3)

What is wrong with you?” Bernadette demanded.

“Nothing.” I was standing in my hotel bathroom, attempting to apply a new layer of black eyeliner. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, for starters, because you were making out with Will Price on his boat this afternoon.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“I saw you with my own two eyes. Is sucking his face all part of the making-him-regret-his-life-choices plan, or have you decided to forgive him?”

“Hmph! Not likely, since I’ve yet to hear any sort of explanation from him for what he did that makes any sense. For a bestselling writer, the guy has a really hard time formulating words with his mouth.”

Although, to be honest, it turned out his mouth was capable of doing a whole range of other, much more interesting things.

“Who are you?” Bernadette asked. “And what have you done with my friend, Jo Wright?”

For a second I was worried she was reading my mind about the things Will had done to me with his mouth, but no. She was sitting on the fluffy armchair in my hotel room, her feet up, thumbing through my copy of The Moment while waiting for me to get ready for dinner.

“You’re actually reading this?” she cried in horror, holding up the bookmark I’d been using to keep my place.

“Yeah.” I turned back to the mirror, feeling only slightly cringey. “So what?”

“You’re reading a Will Price book and you’ve been making out with him? Now I honestly do think the real Jo has been kidnapped and replaced with a reptilian humanoid by the aliens.”

“Why?”

“Because from what you told me, the guy has had a pretty crummy life. Losing his parents at a young age, struggling to raise his younger sister all on his own, and doing, from what I can tell, a pretty good job of it. And yet still all you can think about is the one time he let slip a negative opinion about your books. Do you know how many negative things you’ve said about his books—before, of course, you became one of the reptilians?”

“Uh, I said them to you, remember? Not to reporters from one of the world’s most-read newspapers.”

Bernadette went on as if I hadn’t even spoken. “Not to mention, he’s more than made it up to you, falling all over himself to apologize, sending you first-class tickets here, making sure you got the best suite in this hotel, plus the biggest stipend of all of us at this festival. He even arranged for a pod of wild dolphins to cavort playfully in the sea for you. What more do you want from the guy? I’m actually starting to think this whole thing isn’t because you want to put him into Kitty Katz number twenty-seven, but because Kellyjean is right: you actually do want to jump his bones.”

I threw her a scornful glance, though secretly I was horrified, because his bones were extremely appealing. “Oh, please.”

“I don’t see why it’s so out of the question. He obviously has the hots for you, and you don’t seem to find him physically repulsive. Why not punish him, you know, carnally, and enjoy yourself while you do it.”

“Because it still doesn’t make any sense.” I slammed my eyeliner down onto the sink. “I don’t have any siblings, so I don’t know what it’s like to have to single-handedly raise one. But if I had, I wouldn’t have left her alone to go to Novel Con after finding out she’s being bullied and flunking out of school due to a learning disorder.”

Bernadette rolled her eyes. “Jo. He’s a man. Who knows how they think? I mean, listen to this.” She began to read from The Moment: “‘She wore a black shantung dress, matronly enough to befit her status as a widow, but close-fitting enough to reveal her tiny waist and full breasts—breasts that, I happened to know, stood up on their own without needing any support.’ Ha! She doesn’t even need a bra to keep her full breasts standing at attention? What the hell? Could it be any more obvious this was written by a man? And USA Today had the nerve to call this an instant classic.”

“Yes,” I said, my mind flashing back to Will’s hands, which had strayed fairly close to my own breasts earlier that afternoon. “It’s ridiculous. But we both know that we live in a patriarchy. Now, turning to something along the same lines, how do I look?” I stepped from the bathroom and spun around so that Bernadette could inspect my ensemble.

“Hmmm.” She ran a critical eye over the sleeveless jumpsuit (black, of course) that I was wearing beneath a tuxedo-style jacket. The rumor among us authors was that the dinner at Cracked was supposed to be dressy. “Are you sure about the shoes? What if we walk?”

I glanced down at my strappy black stilettos. “Why would we walk? The author bus is taking us.”

“Do you really want to get back on the author bus after what happened with Garrett? The map they gave us says the restaurant is only a few blocks away. If you’d wear lower heels we could walk and avoid the author-bus-drama experience completely.”

“Good point.”

I was slipping back into my mules—which I was getting heartily sick of—when my phone purred to let me know I had a text message.

GabbyKittyK2010: Hi, Jo, just letting you know everything is good with Miss K! I’ve been feeding her twice a day just like always when you go away, and also making sure she gets her special treats and belly rubs. Also you and Will Price make a great couple!!! ♥♥☺♥♥☺

“What?”

Bernadette was so startled by my outburst, she dropped The Moment. “What happened? Is it your dad?”

“No.” I showed her Gabriella’s text. “What could she be talking about?”

Bernadette squinted at the screen. “I don’t know. Did you post any photos of you and Will together from the panel?”

“Of course not.” I snatched back my phone and began frantically to reply to Gabriella. “Why would I do that?”

“Uh, because you’re a professional writer, and as the guy you definitely don’t want to have sex with pointed out, you’re active on social media?”

“Yeah, but post a picture of me and Will Price together? Give me a break. Hold on, I’ll find out what she’s talking about.”

Jo Wright: Thanks so much for taking such good care of Miss Kitty as always, Gabriella. What photos of me with Will Price? Where did you see them?

“Come on.” Bernadette rose from her fluffy chair and straightened the houndstooth jacket she was wearing with a pair of pleather pants. These, with her purple faux-hawk, made for a particularly striking evening look. “That kid today took tons of photos of you and Will at the signing. Would it be the worst thing in the world if some of them got posted online? Because from what I saw on the boat this afternoon—”

“Stop it.” I watched as three blinking dots appeared on my phone screen, indicating that Gabriella was writing back. “There’s nothing going on between Will and me, because Will can’t even find the words to—hold on, Gabriella just wrote back.”

GabbyKittyK2010: It’s on BuzzFeed!

1 Attachment

33 Ways You Know You’re Gen Z

#19 The Author of Your Favorite Books from Childhood Is Hooking Up with the Author of Your Favorite Books as a Teen and You’re Like, “Yeah. Makes Sense.”

I screamed in horror and threw my phone against the bed.

“What? What’s it say?” Bernadette dove to fish my phone out from beneath the pile of throw pillows where it had landed, then read the link Gabriella had sent. “Oh, is that all?”

“Is that all? Is that all? Bernadette!” I paced the room, clutching fistfuls of my hair, which for once I was wearing down, since it was dry. “This can’t be happening.”

“Why? You look cute in the photo. And check out the way Will is smiling at you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the two of you were hooking up, too.”

I screamed some more, this time into my clenched fists.

“Oh, come on.” Bernadette couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “This isn’t the worst thing. At least they’ve got you paired up with Will and not Garrett. Could you imagine if everyone was saying you were hooking up with that guy? One-eighth Cherokee, my butt.”

I looked up from my fists. “Bernadette, I can’t go tonight.”

“Because of this?” She waved my phone. “What are you, twelve? Jo, you have to go. First of all, you told that little suitcase girl that she had to go—”

“Lauren. Her name is Lauren.”

“Fine, Lauren. She was going to stay in her hotel room and write tonight, but you told her she had to go. Imagine how disappointed she’ll be if you’re not there. And secondly, no one’s going to have seen this.”

“My eleven-year-old cat sitter saw it.”

“Well, okay, but no one at the book festival is going to have seen it. They were too busy enjoying themselves out on the water or eating clam chowder or whatever they were doing today. It’ll be— Oops, your phone is purring, you’re getting another text. I think it’s your agent.”

“Oh.” I rushed over to grab the phone from Bernadette. “Finally! I’ve been waiting all weekend to hear from her.”

Rosie Tate: Sorry for the tardy reply, I was traveling. Can’t apologize enough for Will Price being there when I know I swore to you that he wouldn’t be. But it looks like you’re getting along well enough now. Saw the piece in BuzzFeed. ☺ You two are trending at number ten in the U.S. on Twitter right now!

I thought I might start hyperventilating when another text from her arrived.

Rosie Tate: I have never heard a word about Will’s personal life. I honestly don’t think he has one. All the guy seems to do is write and then work to promote what he’s written.

Rosie Tate: P.S. I ran into the head of Netflix children’s programming in Aruba and pitched her a Kitty K reboot. She said she didn’t hate the idea! Let’s talk on Monday.

Rosie Tate: P.P.S. How’s the writing going? I’m only wondering because your editor emailed me Friday to ask when she can expect a first draft.

I drew back my arm to throw my phone off the balcony, but Bernadette pried it out of my hands. “What? What did she say?”

“Nothing.” I sank down onto the bed in defeat. “Just . . . Will and I are trending.”

“Trending?”

“On Twitter. We’re number ten in the U.S.”

Bernadette’s lips twitched. I could tell she was trying not to laugh, but she couldn’t control herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, and dropped my phone in order to whip out her own. “But I have to tell Jen. This is just too funny.”

“I’m glad that my agony is so amusing to you.”

“You’re not in agony,” Bernadette said as she typed. “If you were really that unhappy about what was going on, you’d pack up and leave.”

“I can’t. Like you said, I owe it to Lauren to stay.”

“Oh, just admit that part of you is getting something out of this—whether it’s inspiration to write Kitty Katz number twenty-seven at last, or . . . something else.” She waggled her eyebrows as she said something else. “I haven’t seen you this heated up over a guy in . . . well, ever. Even when you and Justin were breaking up, you hardly talked about it, because you just didn’t care. Face it, Jo. Love or hate, whatever is going on with you and Will Price, there’s something there. And something is better than what you felt for Justin by the end, which was nothing.”

I dropped my head into my hands in shame. I didn’t want to admit that Bernadette was right. There was “something” between Will and me. I saw it every time I looked into his eyes. It struck me like a heat-seeking missile.

“Fine,” I said grudgingly. “I’ll go tonight. But we’re not staying long. And if anyone starts joking about this BuzzFeed thing—”

Bernadette held up her hand in the traditional claw-fingered Kitty Katz salute. “We leave. I swear. And I’m not kitten around.”

I winced. This was going to be a long night.

The Moment by Will Price

With her golden hair piled on top of her head, small diamond pendants dangling from her earlobes like icicles, Melanie reminded me of a princess from a storybook. Her white dress, covered all over with diamonds smaller than the ones at her ears, shimmered like the snow outside. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Whenever I looked at her, I felt my chest tighten with emotion . . . an emotion that only had one name: love.

Don’t ask me how, but I’d done it. In a few short moments, we’d walk down the aisle together, and she would be mine.