Page 32 of Say My Name

Her eyebrows crinkle. “Hmm. I know that he usually works Christmas morning. Or at least he has for the last few years. But he didn’t even wake you up to say goodbye?”

“Nope.” I shake my head.

Her nose crinkles, and she says, “Well that sucks. Are you seeing him again?”

I know she’s not talking about the physical act of laying my eyes on the man. “I kinda have to. He has more dates if he can guess my name.”

She nudges her shoulder against mine while nibbling on a piece of cheese. “You don’t have to go through with that if you don’t want to. You know that.”

I nod. “I do know. But I…”

“Like him.”

“Yeah. I didn’t expect to. I just figured I was the only single person he hasn’t slept with in town yet, and that’s where his interest came from. But after spending time with him, I like him. I’m kinda scared to find out that he only wanted the one roll in the hay, so to speak.”

“For one, you’re not the only single person in this town. Two, you won’t know anything until you talk to him. You know that, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. I know. I’m just not in a hurry to kick that hornet’s nest.”

“Fair enough. You’ll let me know when you do though, right?”

“Of course,” I say.

“I’ll either buy some endangered plants or plan your bachelorette party depending on how the conversation goes. I’ve gotcha, boo.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her in for a side hug. “I know you do. Right back at you.”

* * *

Pulling into a parking spot, I turn off the car before dragging my visor down to look in the mirror.

Hair behaving. Check.

Most of my makeup still where it’s supposed to be. Check.

The courage to have the what does this mean talk. Not check.

I take a deep breath and blow it out before climbing out of my car. There are only two cars in the parking lot, one of them Chip’s truck, and I figure someone else came in on the holiday to get work done with him.

A high-pitched giggle comes from around one of the endcaps, and I glance in that direction. Blonde, legs for days, the woman has her hand on Warrick’s arm, and the ugly jealousy monster in my gut wants to reach out and smack her hand off him.

Celeste. I should have frickin’ known that she’d come sniffing around when she caught wind that Warrick and I were seeing each other.

But he’s smiling at her—that charming carefree smile that captures the attention of anyone around him. The same smile I was admiring in his truck last night as he drove me home.

Pain lashes at my heart, and it clenches painfully in response. I duck behind a display of ceramic pots in hopes that he didn’t see me while I shamelessly eavesdrop.

I can’t make out everything they’re saying, but I can see Celeste’s hands are tucked into the back pockets of his jeans.

Mortification singes my cheekbones, and my temper lights up. Heat scorches my face, and I can hear my blood whooshing in my own ears.

That slimy fucking asshole. His side of my bed is barely cooled off, and he’s already lining up his next conquest.

Pins and needles attack my calf, the limb falling asleep from my crouching position. I lurch forward at a particularly sharp pinch and bump against a smaller stack of pots.

Oh shit.

I reach out, and before I can snag them, one topples off the top, before crashing to the ground with an explosion of sound. Warrick and Celeste whip around to me, and I quickly stand up so they don’t think I was spying on them.

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