Macon just stared at her for a second, his jaw hanging open. Then he planted his forearms on the table and leaned forward.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Concern formed a deep V on his forehead. “I mean, I understand if you want to go with another agent, the whole brother-in-law as your agent thing could get messy, but you did me the favor by writing this book. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

It had to be bullshit. He was just setting her up for the sandwich method of real compliment, passive-aggressive shiv to the heart, followed by an insincere compliment. Her father had perfected the move and she’d learned to guard against it even if it still always managed to cut her deep. However, Macon didn’t follow up with anything else. He just sat back and drank the coffee the waitress had delivered.

“You mean the offer wasn’t just put out there as a favor to you or Nash?” Chelle asked, trying to process what was happening.

“Publishing doesn’t work that way.” Macon snort-laughed and adjusted his glasses. “Okay, celebrities and politicians get massive book deals that no one expects to ever earn out, but a debut author doesn’t get that kind of deal no matter who they might be married to.”

A hot flash of excitement mixed with terror and a hefty dose of denial rushed through her, making her hands shake, so she wrapped them around her vanilla latte but didn’t lift it, because she didn’t trust herself at the moment not to drop the whole thing in her lap. “I’m sure you’re just being nice.”

He narrowed his eyes at her as he tucked his shoulder-length hair behind his ears, the move revealing colorful tattoos peeking out from beneath the cuffs of his shirt. “Chelle, have you read your book? The publisher knows what I know. You’re the next big thing, something even a guy like Nash, who usually only reads business books, could see. Please tell me there are more books in the works.”

“I have two more finished, and the fourth book is almost done,” she said almost too quietly to be heard over the din of the coffee house chatter.

Her lack of volume didn’t faze Macon, who looked like she’d just given him the Christmas present he’d been wanting for his entire life. “Are you ready to do this? Because I am.”

“I’d never really thought about being a writer for real.” Embarrassment set her cheeks on fire. Even the idea of being vulnerable with someone enough to tell them about her books would have been too ridiculous to consider a few months ago, but then she met Nash and everything changed. Still, it was hard for her to wrap her brain around. “It’s just something I do for fun. I can’t leave the foundation to be a writer.”