Page 63 of Bad Luck Club

“Why not Blue? Don’t you find her attractive?”

“Of course I find her attractive,” he said incredulously.

“So what’s the problem? Why won’t you see her again?”

“Because she’ll expect me to go back to the Bad Luck Club this weekend.”

Her eyes lit up, and he leaned a forearm on the kitchen counter, sensing they’d be there awhile. “Tell me all about it. Don’t leave anything out.”

He was tempted to tell her. The club’s rules were ridiculous, but Blue believed in them, so who was he to take that away from her? “What happens in Bad Luck Club stays in Bad Luck Club.”

She released a loud groan. “Really, Lee? You too?”

“It’s important to Blue that it stays secret, so I’m not talking.”

Her gaze scanned his face, and all her humor leaked away. “You like her.”

“I do,” he admitted before he could stop himself.

“So why do I hear hesitation in your voice?”

“She’s not interested in me like that, Addy. She only wanted to help me.”

His mind flashed back to their encounter in the car, to the way she’d straddled him—to the fire in her eyes. Did he really believe what he was saying?

“Which means she’s interested in you, you stupid lug. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

He released a short laugh. “She only invited me because of a challenge her sponsor gave her. I wish it were more, but she thinks I’m a charity case. My ego can’t handle that, Addy. Not right now.”

She pushed out a huge sigh. “Then we’ve got a problem on our hands.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she’s on her way here now.”

Chapter Eighteen

Snakes in a teacup, it turned out, symbolized hidden worries and fears. Blue had laughed out loud when she’d read that. Was there anything hidden about her fears? She felt them pulsing against her skin. Remy’s calls—plural, since he’d made two more, always hanging up at the beep—the uncertainty of her mother’s health, and the unprofitability of her business. And Lee Buchanan. Why did being ignored by him hurt this badly? She felt weak because of it. Vulnerable in a way she hadn’t even felt the first time she shared her story with Bear.Theyhadn’t pressed their backs together. They’d sat in two separate chairs, facing away from each other.

She’d found herself picking up her phone roughly three times as much as usual, this despite the unwanted Remy calls, tapping her finger against it as she thought about texting him. About sayingcat got your tongue?Orreally, Lee, afraid of a little T-shirt?Of course, that wasn’t what he was afraid of, just like she wasn’t afraid of going out on a date with someone she actually liked. She was afraid of what it might lead to. Which was why she’d been all too willing to leave the details of her challenge on Dottie’s shoulders. Dottie had given her a day, a time, and a location—Saturday at seven p.m. at Lupo, an Italian tapas restaurant she’d gone to a few times with Adalia and Maisie. The guy would be wearing a red scarf. Why he’d be wearing it indoors, she wasn’t sure, but she hadn’t asked any questions. She had a way of fulfilling her challenge. That was all that mattered: getting through it.

So when she saw Lee’s car parked in the driveway of the Buchanan house, she seriously considered turning around and going home. Adalia hadn’t breathed a word about him when she’d asked Blue to open the studio late so they could discuss a “game plan” for her business over brunch—if anything, she’d insinuated he would still be on his road trip. Maisie was supposed to join them too, but she’d had to run out to a nearby farm to pick up a pregnant dog for the shelter. She’d texted her apologies, ending with,but…puppies!Harry had offered to call in sick so he could come too, which had touched her, although she’d adamantly refused. He’d admitted to being relieved—the moment he’d made the offer, he’d worried his employers were somehow bugging his apartment. She’d delicately suggested that if this were true, he had larger problems than faking illness to get off work.

Two of her consultants weren’t available, but Lee…he was good at sales.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that he was there. She needed advice, after all, and if she asked for his, what better way to show him she didn’t think he was a pity case?

So she took several deep breaths—in with good intentions, out with some of the fear and worry pressing on her skin—and got out of the car, printouts of her latest spreadsheets tucked under her arm in a manila folder.

The door opened before she could knock. It was Adalia, her eyes full of mischief, her cheeks a little pink…and she was wearing a jacket. A second later, when Tyrion nudged her leg with his nose, she registered that Adalia had him on a leash.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” she asked, confused. Her friend had told her to come at ten, but it was true that Adalia wasn’t as concerned about timeliness as her brother.

“Nope. Come on in. Tyrion got into something weird in the neighbor’s trash last night, and he’s made it very clear he needs to go out again. Dog duty calls. Why don’t you head back to the kitchen? There’s coffee on, and I made some apple spice muffins for us.”

Blue’s favorite. Somehow she suspected a certain someone would be waiting back there too. He wouldn’t be happy he’d been duped into it, especially since he’d gone out of his way to avoid contact with her. He might even suspect Blue had participated in planning this little surprise.

“Addy,” she said, “tell me the truth. Is Lee in the kitchen?”

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