Page 87 of Conrad

Sorry I’m late. You there?

She texted back.

Penelope

Yes. Waiting.

If it hadn’t been for the period break in the game, she might not have gotten his initial text at all. Frankly, she hadn’t heard from the man in over a month, and she’d feared he’d gone the way of Sarah Livingston or Anton Beckett or . . . Edward.

She was turning up the heat when her phone rang.

Again, not Conrad.

“Harper. ’Sup?”

“Was that you on the jumbotron? Good night, girl—are you and Con a thing now?”

Right.“You saw that?”

“We’re at Jack’s parents’ house, and yes, we were watching the game. So, the fake dating”—she’d lowered her voice—“is working?”

“I’m not so sure it’s fake,” Penelope said. “Or maybe it used to be and isn’t anymore. I don’t know.”

“I called it. Bam. From the moment he introduced himself at the wedding, I saw that coming. You two are perfect for each other.”

“What? How?”

“Conrad’s always been the guy you can depend on. The one who shows up, who gets it done. And you, Pen, need a guy who watches your back, makes you feel safe. Case in point—him carrying you up the stairs at Boo’s wedding.”

“I could have walked. It was a little overkill.”

“Or exactly what you needed. Of course you could have walked. But there’s no sin in letting a guy try to protect you. It’s how they’re built. Or at least, it’s how Conrad is built.”

Penelope didn’t have any trouble remembering his arms around her, at the wedding, at the gala, at the cabin. “He is . . . strong.”

Harper laughed. “By the way, I saw you in his jersey. That’s a pretty big sign of commitment. When did you get that?”

“Today. He DMed me on Instagram and said to get a ticket at will call. The jersey was with it.”

“Cute. Except why did he DM you?”

“Long story. The short is that we lost our phones last night in a car accident.”

A beat. “You okay?”

“Yes. He found a cabin, and we did a little B & E, and my security located us a couple hours later.”

“What happened?”

She paused. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why?” The word came out soft, low, with some reproach, as if Harper knew.

“Because Conrad thinks we were forced off the road. I don’t know—it was slippery, and it was a tiny two-lane road . . . Anyway, it’s all good. Or it was until they told me my garage was on fire.”

Another beat. “Fire?”

“My garage burned down last night. They think it was an electrical short?—”

---