Page 49 of All Signs Point to Malibu

“Okay...” Sonia says, but her excitement fades a little.

“What’s wrong?”

Sonia sighs. “I lied to Liam. I didn’t tell him about the meeting. I said I was going to yoga.” She looks genuinely guilty.

I still can’t believe Liam bought that. Did he even see her? No one wears that much makeup to work out.Shemay not be forthcoming, butheneeds to start paying more attention. It’s one thing to not notice his bride-to-be camera ready for a sweaty stretching class, but to not realize what William Banks is scheming with three hotel builds?

Liam’s a smart guy. Why is he not seeing what’s in front of him? Too stressed and blinded by love? Or are the Bankses really that shady and manipulative?

“You’re going to have to tell him now,” I say gently but firmly. If this marriage has a chance of succeeding—which it doesn’t—Sonia can’t keep this to herself much longer. And if their individual dreams mean they drift further apart, then that was always going to happen. I’m just helping them get there sooner, before more money and time is spent on these wedding plans.

More importantly, before my own life gets complicated.

Working with Warren the night before—however briefly—had been unnerving. He’d smelled like sex on a stick when he’d shown up all manly and sweaty after football practice. Thank God the smell of fried food helped mask it or I would have jumped him.

And then the flirty banter in my office...where had that come from? We’re no strangers to making fun of one another in sarcastic, biting ways, but the teasing of last night’s exchange had been different.

Not to mention the sexually charged finger suck at the bakery...

My sexual dry spell is obviously affecting my hormones if I’m thinking about Warren Mitchell as anything more than an ungrateful pain in my ass.

“I will tell him soon. Definitely,” Sonia says on the screen, snapping me back toherlove life.

“You shouldn’t put it off, and you two are a team, right? He should support you in this.” Or not, if it’s not meant to be...

“Thanks, Hailey. You really are the best.” Sonia smiles gratefully.

“Happy to help.” And I genuinely am happy...though I’m not helping in quite the way she thinks.

NINE

HAILEY’S DAILY RULE FOR SUCCESS:

If your dreams fail to become reality, create a new reality, don’t abandon your dreams.

Last night, I dreamed that Sonia told Liam all about her passion for acting. The two discussed it. He was honest about his dreams in New York. They hugged. Parted ways. And I got to eat the desserts for the engagement party all alone while celebrating another future saved.

The light of day brought a different reality.

Chickened out. Couldn’t tell him.

The text from Sonia meant it was full speed ahead with planning the engagement party. I’ve been spending so much time on this and not nearly enough on my own career. Sleuthing, organizing, implementing mental warfare, and coming up with ways to break up an engagement without anyone finding out is taking all my energy and focus.

Warren’s already waiting outside Brooks’s Bar when I pull up. He really is staying close. Which I should hate, especially after the other day, but being around him has less of a nails-on-chalkboard effect now than it did before. Which is dangerous for so many reasons. I’m not supposed to like him or get to know him, and I’m certainly not supposed to be attracted to him, but the sight of him has my heart picking up speed—just a tad.

I’d like to dismiss it as fear of getting caught, but I know it’s because he looks gorgeous in a pair of faded jeans and a white T-shirt, runners on his feet and an old, worn baseball hat on his head. There’s something sexy about a guy in a baseball hat that I can’t explain. It should look amateurish. It goes against all the polished principles I live by, but it’s a weakness of mine.

As is the perfect five o’clock stubble along his jawline, which I notice as I climb out of the car and approach.

“Morning,” he says, pushing off from the wall he’s leaning against.

“It’s two p.m.”

“Early for us bed huggers,” he says with a grin as he opens the bar door and gestures for me to enter.

As I duck under his arm, I get a distinct whiff of cologne. Someone showered today—impressive. And the scent is actually really nice. I’d expected him to wear Axe body spray like he did in high school, but this is a richer, more manly smell—earth toney and slightly wild.

A smartass comment right now would take the edge off the mild attraction, but my mind is blank and I’m afraid I’ll accidentally compliment him instead, so I keep my mouth shut.

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