my name on it.
Fumbled the exit.
Fumbled everything.
I’m just mortified I asked him if I could kiss him. It would have been better if I didn’t feel like a twelve-year-old. I’m thirty-two, and the way I feel around that guy puts me back to preteen eras. I hate it. I hate what I just did. Most importantly, I’d like nothing more than to never see Jack Highland.
I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look him in the eyes ever again.
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
PRESENT DAY
The two-hour car ride to The Walnut screws me over. It’s too much down time to Philly, and I end up replaying the awkward moment in Anacapri over and over in my head. I can’t tell if it was actually as bad as I’m remembering or if I’m imagining the interaction worse on each replay.
In any case, I was rejected for a kiss.
I’ve never been rejected before. Not like that.
Charlie and I are buzzed into the building, and while we ride the elevator to the third floor, I glance at the time on my watch.
1 a.m.
Who has an appointment at 1 a.m. that’s not a booty call or something that could put you in jail?
Charlie. That’s who.
My ear picks up sudden comms sound.
“Farrow to Omega, I’ve already left for the lake house. We’re trying to make it there before sunrise. Unless some bad shit happens, you probably won’t be able to reach me on comms for a while.”
I feel my mouth curve. His maverick ass is actually informing our lead about where he is. Albeit, after he’s already started driving to the Smoky Mountains.
I click my mic and speak quietly on comms. “Have fun on your honeymoon, Redford. Don’t be too sad I’m not there to make a good time better.”
“I think you mean messier, Oliveira.”
I stifle a laugh since Charlie is literally beside me and can’t hear the radio. I have enough time to say back, “A hundred-and-one tabloids with your face front-and-center would disagree.”
“You mean the ones that say I’ve had the wedding of the century?” I can practically see his smug cheek-to-cheek smile with that ace thrown.
He got me.
Farrow and Maximoff’s wedding made every headline, every entertainment site, late-night show, and Instagram feed. I love them, but my friend getting hitched recently, especially to a Hale, has been a painful reminder that I’m…alone.
And I’m about to face my crush that last ended like a pie in the face.
I’d joke to Farrow about letting me tag along on his honeymoon if there were time. But the elevator doors slide open, and my good time on comms comes to an abrupt halt.
Officially, I’ve lost the nerve to actually see Jack. Avoidance isn’t an option. I’m here for work, not a social outing. The only way to minimize embarrassment is to ignore Jack. Maybe I won’t even ask for the clothes he borrowed anymore.
I waffle between the options before I land on one:
Professional.
Keep it professional.
I settle with this plan as we reach Jack’s apartment.
Protocol: I answer Charlie’s doors and knock on the ones he visits.
But before I put my fist to the wood, I look to Charlie.
My client leans a shoulder next to the doorframe, his brows rising like he knows what I’m about to ask. “You’ll find out why we’re here in five seconds,” he says. “I’m not about to ruin the surprise.”
“Who said I was going to be surprised?” I knock on the door. I always plan for the unpredictable with Charlie.
The door swings open.
Jack Highland stands on the other side.
I cage my breath.
A yellow sweat-stained Under Armour shirt suctions to his muscular chest like he just returned from the gym. Smart watch on his wrist, one wireless earbud in his left ear, and running shorts all add up.
“We interrupt something?” I ask, worried Charlie didn’t have a meeting with Jack at all. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s showed up somewhere unannounced.
Jack shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve been waiting for you guys.” He pushes the door open wider, and I slip past him, avoiding his eyes.
He clears his throat. “Sorry I didn’t have time to take a shower.”
I bite back a comment about how he still smells good. My pulse thumps loudly in my ears. Professional. It’s usually not hard for me to dip into work-mode. I take my job seriously.
Quickly, I assess Jack’s apartment. It’s the first time I’ve ever been here.
My first thought: how does a six-foot-four guy live in something so…small?
The space is tinier than even my studio,