Page 36 of Long Shot

Taylor felt her eyes welling with tears. She looked up at the ceiling. “Easier said than done.”

Sipping his wine, Connor smiled. “It always is. But if you really want this girl, you should show her. Let her decide if the secret is worth it.”

There was no arguing with that. As the waiters came and collected their plates, Taylor typed out a message. She hit send before she could stop herself.

I want to see you again. I don’t think we can avoid talking. Come to my place next week, I’ll cook.

The whoosh made her heart drop. Taylor hadn’t gone out on a limb like this since… well the last time she made the first move on Mackenzie. But Connor was right. She’d never know if it was worth it if she couldn’t have it.

They stood from the table and headed outside, where they were greeted by dozens of camera flashes. Connor stood up taller, sucking his cheeks in enough to make his face look slightly more tones. Reaching behind him, he grabbed Taylor’s hand. A light wink made Taylor smile. The cameras loved it, even though they didn’t understand it.

A part of Taylor liked having a secret.

As she ducked into the black SUV, her phone buzzed from her pocket. It was a text from Mac:

Game on. Send instructions.

15

Mac

This is fucking crazy.Mac tapped her foot in the backseat.

It had been a week since she got Taylor’s cryptic text. And from her best internet sleuthing, it was sent while Taylor was on a staged PR date with male tennis star, Connor Garcia. Rumors had circulated about his identity for a long time, but he’d done a good job hiding it. Every news outlet painted him as quite the player, bouncing from woman to woman at will.

Mac watched as the car emerged from the tunnel to the dazzling lights of Manhattan. The seats were perfect, still smelling like a new car. Taylor insisted she send her driver, not wanting a random rideshare to know the private entrance of her very bougie building.

The car slowed as it approached a nondescript driveway. It led down to a private garage where dozens of other black SUVs were parked. The bright headlights of the car lit the entire place up, highlighting a woman with curly hair standing by glass doors.

She waved to the car, which pulled to a halt next to her. Grabbing the door handle, she opened the door for Mac. “Ms. Bennett, welcome to One11 Residences. I’m Camilia. Ms. Young sent me to receive you.”

Mac stepped out of the car, eyeing the empty parking lot. It felt like a seedy drug deal, but she was the cargo. Stretching out her hand, Mac shook Cam’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Cam closed the car door and the SUV pulled away. Gesturing toward the door, Cam opened the entrance for Mac who walked through.

Mac gawked at the decor. “Jesus christ, even the parking garage is lux.”

With a laugh, Cam’s true New Yorker accent slipped. “No fucking kidding.” She winked at Mac as she clicked the up button on the elevator. When the doors slid open, Cam walked inside as Mac followed. Once they were inside, Cam put a key into a lock. As soon as she did, the Elevator blinked with an S.

Following Mac’s confused gaze, Cam nodded. “Ms. Young doesn’t want to risk any other residents getting into the elevator with us.”

Mac nodded, crossing her arms. “Got it.” The knot in Mac’s stomach was doubling in size by the second. A part of her was thrilled by the secrecy, enjoying the luxurious treatment. But another part of her feared this would all end exactly the way it started.

The doors sliding closed pulled Mac out of her thoughts as Cam selected the 42nd floor, labeled: PHC.

“Jesus. So that’s what ranking first buys…” Mac watched the numbers climb faster than she ever expected an elevator to move.

Cam shrugged. “And a little help from the folks.”

Mac laughed. “I like you. You’re honest.”

“Not to them.” Cam winked.

With each floor, Mac’s breathing escalated. She had no idea what to expect. Even picking an outfit had been a struggle. She had settled on black trousers and a blue, knit button down. It was one of the nicer things in her closet but still cool enough for a mid-June day.

Wimbledon was just two weeks away. What could Taylor possibly want to discuss with the third Grand Slam of the season around the corner?

But the elevator dinged. Cam nodded as the door swung open, putting her arm in the way of the doors. Mac swallowed her anxiety and stepped forward, into a hallway with a single doorway.

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