Page 70 of Mark my Words

“Knock it off.”

“Excuse me?”

“How would you like it if I started calling Isobel a bitch?”

Rolling his eyes, he sat back in his chair, but I could see the muscles in his neck flex as his jaw clenched. He was trying to appear unaffected, but my question had hit a nerve.

“She’s your superior, Mr. Langley. I’d advise you to be respectful in this office.”

“Pot meet kettle, Adrian. You can’t go around calling people bitchy, no matter how much they irritate you.”

“She calls me Dickhead.” He had a point, but he was a dickhead, so... “Whatever, Sam. Just make sure you pack your cup.”

By the end of the day, Adrian still hadn’t reappeared after another ‘business lunch,’ and I was antsy. I’d gone through the packet Adrian had given me and had a fairly good idea of what would be expected of me during this book tour. It was a lot of verifying information with the different venues, ensuring copies of the books were on hand, and arranging for the marketing materials to be transferred from city to city.

We’d also be responsible for ensuring the daily schedule the PR department set out was followed. Signings could last for hours in some larger cities, depending on their popularity. It was a lot for a typical author, but I wasn’t sure how he would handle crowds considering Evan’s aversion to social interaction.

Typically, in the weeks or months leading up to a tour, our team would be responsible for pulling passages from the final manuscript for the marketing team, but all of that had already been done. Even though he was a colossal jackass, Gregory’s software program made our lives easier. As we’d edited, we could highlight passages and mark them to be pulled up later. Kristine grumbled every time I suggested we flag something, but I think even she saw the time it saved us down the road.

Deciding I wasn’t in the mood to deal with public transportation, I walked home, stopping to pick up Thai food. Taylor and Caleb were playing video games when I got in, cursing at each other through their headsets. Normally, I would have joined them, but I wasn’t in the mood to try to be social right now.

After I’d polished off my Thai noodles, I opened my laptop and reviewed the edits I’d done since last week, noting that a few things had popped up on the file over the weekend. Despite avoiding me, Kristine had been working over the weekend, wherever she was.

Closing my eyes, I tried to sort through the mess in my head, hating that I’d let myself get attached to her. She’d told me from the start this was just a fling, but I’d gone and caught feelings for someone emotionally unavailable. Go figure that the first girl I was interested in doing more than just fooling around with wouldn’t be on board. Maybe Kent was right. The prospect of getting married someday didn’t seem horrible. Most of my friends who had stayed back home were already on the family plan, starting their homemaking lives, while I tried to get a promotion that made my life difficult.

Despite my mother’s assumptions, it was hard for me to be away from my family. Maybe after the book tour, I’d look for editing positions closer to home if this fantasy position didn’t pan out. I knew my feelings for Kristine were dangerously close to developing into something real and substantial, but it still felt like it had an expiration date surrounding this promotion.

A loud chirp from my phone startled me. I must have fallen asleep, but my alarm clock said it was only a little after 10:00.

Groaning at the stiffness in my shoulders, I unlocked the screen, almost dropping it when I noticed a little red bubble on the Tinder icon. Either someone else had messaged me, or Kristine had finally responded.

My palms were sweaty as I opened the app and clicked on the chat feature, my direct message with Kristine showing it’d received a response.

Kris: I said himbos need not apply.

I laughed at her snarky response, glad she didn’t seem angry that I’d been on the app and found her profile. Trying to text her directly probably would have been easier, but I wasn’t convinced she’d respond after last week. This got her attention, and left the ball in her court. Now I just had to figure out how to respond in a way that wouldn’t scare her off.

Sam: I’m a reformed himbo, tyvm.

Kris: If that’s what you’ve gotta tell yourself.

Sam: You don’t seem to mind.

When her response wasn’t immediate, I wondered if I’d pushed it too far. Unintentionally stalking her on a dating app wasn’t exactly giving her space, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

Kris: Adrian not keeping you entertained this week?

Sam: I miss your insults more. It was quiet in the office without you this week.

Kris: Such a sweet talker.

Sam: Would you make fun of me if I told you I missed you, not just your scathing remarks on my character?

Kris: Yes...

I waited as I watched the little dots move that indicated she was typing. My last comment had bordered on the desperate side, but I did miss her. Being dismissive and not telling her how I really felt had left things up in the air up to this point. Maybe a little transparency would eventually be reciprocated—or she’d break things off for good, but I was hoping for the former.

Kris: I may have missed you too.

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