Page 59 of Business or Pleasure

Despite the fact that we’ve seen each other naked a handful of times now, his words linger, wrapping around my heart and setting down roots there, where they could grow into something even more invasive. There’s a terrifying sweetness to them, an innocence that isn’t always there when our hotel room doors are locked.

Maybe also right now, too.

“Can’t, schmant.” He seems to get another burst of energy, sitting up in bed. “You’re just... so smart. So nice. And you wear socks when you shouldn’t and take me to sex shops and read books about people killing each other with poisoned pastries.” He looks up at me with this fierce vulnerability, one that makes my heart swell in my chest. “And you’re beautiful and adorable and cute, and I guess some of those mean the same thing, but I stand by it. I have this monster crush on you, and there it is.” He flings his arms out, punctuating the whole thing with a wide, loopy grin.

Then he yawns, drops back to the pillow, and immediately falls asleep.

Well... fuck.

chapter

sixteen

MIAMI, FL

Maddy DeMarco’s face grins back at me from a Staff Picks table at the airport bookstore. Taunting me. New York Times Bestseller! declares the new gold sticker on the cover.

“Chandler?” Finn calls.

With a sigh, I leave Maddy behind and hurry to catch our flight.

The Miami con is massive, but I have to admit, they’re starting to blur together a bit. More autographs, another panel, another line of fans waiting to meet their favorite fictional biology major unequivocally devoted to his werewolf girlfriend.

Any moment I’m not scribbling away at our first draft, I’m frantically refreshing the Alaska Airlines flight tracker. Because last night, I beamed out an SOS to Noemie before I even made it back to my room, Finn’s confession doing acrobatics in my chest.

“I know it’s a six-hour flight and you have a million things to do and—”

“Chandler,” she said calmly, a welcome contrast to the chaos in my brain. “It doesn’t matter. I’m coming. First thing tomorrow morning.” This was PR problem-solving Noemie, and maybe that’s the version of her I need.

All morning, I’ve tried to explain it away. It was the medication messing with him, or maybe he meant it in a different way—like, You’re crushing it! Or he was just being polite. Everyone knows you tell someone you have a crush on them when they take care of you while you’re sick. That’s just etiquette.

One small blessing is that Finn doesn’t seem to remember much of what we talked about after my cozy mystery diatribe, or if he does, he’s doing an incredible job hiding it. I, on the other hand, am an absolute mess, made all the messier by the fact that our next stop is Reno, where I’ll be meeting his mother and his childhood best friend.

Nothing about last night made sense. If anything, I should find him less attractive today, but that’s unfortunately not true. I shouldn’t have blushed this morning when he knocked on my hotel room door with a cup of coffee as a thank-you for taking care of him.

Because either of us having feelings for each other would be nothing short of disastrous.

Crushes fade, I remind myself as Finn poses for photos, grinning and generally being charming as hell. Crushes fade, and we already cemented this as a casual relationship. If it became anything more and ended badly, it might harm our working relationship, too, and I’d never forgive myself for jeopardizing a job like that.

We’ll go our separate ways when the book is done, anyway. No attachments. No feelings.

“Could you make it out to Noemie? That’s N-o-e—”

“Nome?” The sound that comes out of my mouth can only be compared to a pterodactyl screech. I leap out of my chair, its legs squealing against the linoleum floor. There she is, the last person in the signing line, grinning back at me. “You made it!”

I nearly knock over a stack of Finnegan Walsh headshots in my attempt to hug her. No shock, she looks extremely put together even after a six-hour flight, dark hair in a low ponytail and not a single crease in her linen pants. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you.” When I release her, she’s gazing at Finn with what might as well be heart-eyes.

“This is the famous Noemie,” Finn says, and my cousin looks like she might faint.

“You told him about me?” she stage-whispers.

“Only the embarrassing things.” And I mentioned she was flying in, of course, white-lying that she had some spontaneous time off and wanted some sun.

Finn extends a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Icantbelieveyourereal,” she says in one breath. “I was trying to play it cool when I was in line just now, but... oh my god. You’re him. I mean, he’s you. And you’re about a hundred times cuter in person. Not that you aren’t cute on TV. I mean—” She inhales, trying to collect herself, a blush tingeing her cheeks. “Wow. This is why I shouldn’t be let out of the house.”

Finn laughs. “Thank you. I’m actually quite glad you left the house.”

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