Page 8 of Change Your Play

“It’s a late—late addition—” My eyes flickered to my laptop screen.

Miles Locke grinned back at me from the screen, dirty blonde hair tousled, an easy tilt to his features, like he was edging someone closer, daring you to meet him.

Nope.

Inappropriate thoughts needed to stay just thoughts.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I said and hung up the phone.

That didn’t help with the Miles fixation. I couldn’t calm down. What was it about that wide receiver?

He jumped my nerves like nothing else.

Not good.

Since I wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon, I decided to grab a cold coffee from the hotel shop. With a yawn, I slipped on my flats and walked down to the front desk. It was quiet in the hotel, even during the summer. I blinked, finally sleepy, finallyachieving that tiredness I’d been hoping for, and rounded the corner to hear a voice.

Hisvoice.

There was no way.

“How about I just drop them off?” he asked.

I couldn’t decide if I was wandering into a daydream or some kind of ridiculous fantasy. That was Miles’s voice, but also, no, it couldn’t be.

Yes, it could. Him—standing in front of the front desk—was proof of it.

Rugged, rough, always with that teasing twinkle in his eyes, Miles leaned against the podium like he personally owned a stake in the company. The front desk employee didn’t stop gawking at him for a second. He wasn’t even trying to use his charm. That was all natural for him.

He had a big bouquet in his arms, roses, peonies, hibiscuses, dahlias, and more flowers I didn’t recognize, all bunched together in a huge formation with one theme - red.

Red petals, all of them. The red was almost overwhelming; they were that bright.

The breath caught in my throat. “Mr. Locke?”

He glanced over and his grin widened. “Cleo Bennight.”

“Mr. Locke…?” I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of the pajamas I’d been walking around in. Another blush touched my cheeks, but that seemed like it’d be consistent with Miles around. “You’re here…?”

“I am.”

I waited for an explanation, but he didn’t provide one. “You’re here for…?”

“Yes.”

Damn. I thought so.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my shoulders. “Bribes aren’t a part of Marrs culture. We reward based on merit and merit alone—”

“You think the flowers are abribe?”

I blinked. “Um, sorry, I thought….”

“Wait, you thought I brought you flowers for a bribe? That’s pretty funny.”

“Me?”

The idea was incomprehensible. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. It didn’t make sense. We were the dark blue Romans after all. That’s what Marrs was known for. Red just didn’t match.

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