Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Was she as good at compartmentalizing as I was?
Maybe she was even better, because when she was done, she strolled into my office with an easy smile.
“I’m finished and heading out.” Her gaze swept over me just like it should. It was casual and friendly, and I hated it. I wanted to see her as affected as she made me. But she was immune. “You want to stick with Tuesday next week for your cleaning?”
I cleared the stickiness from my throat. “Yeah, that be great.”
“Okay.” Her smile was bright. “Talk to you later, friend.”
I sat to one side of Ardy’s office and took notes as Huston discussed the pitches he wanted to make to the Electralights team. The music festival would be setting next year’s lineup soon, and Warbler hoped to get another act included besides Stella, who’d headline.
My phone vibrated with a text message, and I glanced at the preview on my smartwatch.
Charlotte: Are you free tonight? I need a favor.
I dismissed the notification and tried to focus on my work, but I struggled. Whenever I glanced at my boss, the reminder of who his daughter was would play on repeat in my head.
Charlotte: I need to do something difficult and could really use a friend.
Shit. I pulled in a tight breath. I didn’t have plans tonight, but even if I had, how the hell could I say no to that? Whatever it was, it had to be rough, because I couldn’t imagine I’d been her first choice to reach out to.
Ardy understood his people needed to be accessible and probably didn’t think anything of it when I pulled out my phone and typed out my response.
Me: Yes, I’m available tonight. Everything okay?
Charlotte: Yeah, I’ll explain later. Can I pick you up at 7?
I sent back a ‘thumbs up’ emoji, then put the screen to sleep and pocketed my phone. She’d said everything was okay, but for some reason, I continued to worry. It was impossible to know her tone through text, I reminded myself.
But my concern for her persisted the rest of the day, and it didn’t let up until she appeared on my front porch.
“Hey,” I said, stepping out to join her.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her she looked nice, but I bit it back. She did look good, though. She wore a blue sleeveless shirt, white skinny jeans, and a pair of heeled sandals that made her almost as tall as I was. She wore the same makeup as the first night we’d met, and I got the sense she’d put a lot of effort into her look tonight.
Oh, shit. Was this a date?
The logical side of my brain was annoyed. Hadn’t we said we were just going to be friends?
“Hi.” She looked more relieved to see me, rather than excited. “Thanks for coming with me tonight.”
I pulled my front door closed and locked it. “Sure. Where are we going?”
She hesitated, and her voice filled with embarrassment. “To my ex’s place.”
“What?” Oh, shit. Was that why she looked nice?
“I know this is really freaking awkward, but I didn’t know who else to ask. None of my friends like Zach.” Her gaze refused to meet mine, and she stared at the center of my chest. “When I moved out, I forgot to grab my iPad, and he’s been giving me the runaround about it since.”
Moved out? We hadn’t talked about her past relationships, so I’d had no idea she’d had one so serious—or so recent. Hadn’t she told me it had been a while for her the night we’d met?
“I need to get it back,” she said, “before my parents find out. They don’t need another reason to hate him.” She lifted her chin and set her gaze on me, trying to look strong. “I don’t know how this is going to go. He might be fine and hand it over no problem, but he also might be an asshole about it. I figure it’ll help if you’re there.”
It was a lot to digest, and when I didn’t move or say anything right away, desperation crept into her eyes.
“You can say no,” she said. “I know it’s a big ask.”
Was it, though? This wasn’t hard, and it was something I’d do for a friend. Any friend. Plus, maybe it’d help us get back onto solid footing, to lead us into the friend zone. That was why I was going to say yes. It had absolutely nothing to do with my curiosity about her ex-boyfriend.
I gestured toward her car in the driveway, which was barely more than a glorified golf cart. “Let’s go.”
Charlotte’s Toyota Yaris was red and tiny, and at least five years old because they’d stopped making them a while back. I eyed the microscopic passenger seat, wondering if I’d fit, but I did and got in without complaint.