One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,51
have all the things. We don’t really know much about him except he’s their landlord. I googled him and barely found any details. All we know is he’s a landlord and a writer. But what if we collect all this stuff and he doesn’t give back their money? What if we fail them?”
I want to say that it was still worth it because I’m having a blast with her. But that’s not the answer she’s looking for. Nor is it the answer my head can supply. My brother does need my help. I do want to help him.
“Let’s ask the man,” I say, since Lola needs a practical answer, not a heart one. She needs me to be me, not a bit of Rowan or a bit of Luna.
“Really?
I let go of her hand. “We’re the responsible ones, right? It’s the responsible thing to do.”
I grab my phone and tap out an email.
To: Harrison Bates
From: Lucas Xavier
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: Making sure
Hey. So, we snagged three of the five items, but with all due respect, how do we know you’re going to give Luna and Rowan the security deposit back? Or, to put it another way, is this just a wild-goose chase?
To: Lucas Xavier
From: Harrison Bates
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: No geese were harmed in the making of this chase
I’m offended! You’ve questioned my character!
To: Harrison Bates
From: Lucas Xavier
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: Good to know, but . . .
Sorry, not sorry. Just want a legit answer, man.
To: Lucas Xavier
From: Harrison Bates
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: And the answer is . . .
Actually, I’m shocked it took you so long to ask. You must be having a grand old time.
Admit it, you’re having fun.
To: Harrison Bates
From: Lucas Xavier
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: Sure, but . . .
We are. But the point is still valid. What happens when this is over?
To: Lucas Xavier
From: Harrison Bates
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: Have faith
You’ll get the money back. And as a show of good faith, here you go. Presumably, you use this email address for Zelle.
A minute later, my bank sends a Zelle notification of five hundred dollars, a portion of the security deposit, sent via my email. I blink in surprise, showing the screen to Lola.
“Okay. That’s a relief. Because I was definitely feeling foolish,” she says.
“You were?”
“Yeah, like we were just running around for no reason. Like we were chasing bubbles on the beach or something.”
“His bubbles have dollar bills,” I say, but something doesn’t sit well with me. The fact that she felt foolish. Does that mean she’s not enjoying this the same way I am?
I return to the emails.
To: Lucas Xavier
From: Harrison Bates
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: See?
Do you believe me now? Now tell me, how much fun is it, on a scale of one to ten?
I’m half tempted to turn to Lola, to ask for her rating. But maybe I don’t want to know if it’s different than mine. Because mine’s an eleven. But no way am I letting the Ringmaster know that.
To: Harrison Bates
From: Lucas Xavier
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: Rating
It’s a five.
To: Lucas Xavier
From: Harrison Bates
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: What will it take to get that to a ten?
Want me to add more clues to make it a ten?
To: Harrison Bates
From: Lucas Xavier
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: That doesn’t sound like your thing
You said you wouldn’t do that.
To: Lucas Xavier
From: Harrison Bates
CC: Lola Dumont
Subject: You have me on that point
True, true. I am a man of my word. And speaking of words, I must return to them because this gives me an idea . . .
When I set down the phone, the spell is broken. The moment of holding hands has passed. We’re no longer two people enjoying a wild-goose chase. We’re two people who needed to know there was a purpose to the last twenty-four hours. A purpose beyond getting to know each other again. And we got what we needed with the partial deposit—confirmation we’re not wasting our time.
But really, this shift is for the best. It has to be.
Because how can you fall for someone in one day? Hell, it’s been less than twenty-four hours.
There’s no way I could be falling for her again.
That would be like chasing bubbles on a beach and expecting to catch them.
That would be foolish indeed.
When the train arrives, we exit, but it feels like we’re not the same people who handed our tickets to the conductor an hour ago. There’s a new heaviness in the air. Maybe an awareness that any feelings might be foolish. I focus on facts instead. “So, the debate rages on,” I