Page 8 of Inflame

Angie closes her eyes and covers her hands over her face. “Oops.”

I dart up from the sofa and toss my hands flippantly into the air. “That man! He is impossible to work with, you know that?” I can feel my pulse quicken, as I think back to how Nic just stared at me. I’m not even that interesting, and yet, he couldn’t stop…

Analyzing me? Like I was the most fascinating—and not in a good way—person in the world.

And his smirk.

It was subtle but still fucking annoying. Everything about him is annoying. Why does he have to be so freaking attractive? The universe is cruel.

I pace along the dingy area rug that could use a good power wash. I never really noticed before now. It’s actually kind of gross. Yuck.

“Claire?”

“Hmm?”

“Seems like I lost you for a minute.”

I turn to look at her. “I thought Nic would be way more laid-back about this trip. Nope. The complete opposite. If he jacks everything up, I just want you to know that I tried. Believe me, I tried.”

“You’re putting way too much pressure on yourself. You know I’ll be happy with anything.”

Which is precisely why Angie deserveseverything. She is always thinking about everyone else. Celebrating her is a joy. If only my co-planner thought similarly.

I detour into the kitchen in search of a bottle of our favorite wine. I crack open the fridge and push the few items out of the way to retrieve the bottle I have been saving. I will need to hit up the grocery store after the trip and restock some of the essential items. My cleanse ended, so I am back to enjoying alcohol in moderation. Talking about Nic warrants a drink—if just to settle my nerves. “I can’t help it if all my ideas are better. It really is a curse,” I call out so she can still hear me.

“How so?”

“Well, for one,” I say, uncorking the bottle, “I struggle to sleep when my mind is on overdrive planning you the best damn weekend that has ever existed.” I pour two glasses and meander back into the living room. I really need to decorate and add some life into this place. Angie is the fanciest thing in the room—and she is just wearing lounge clothes. “And when I do finally fall asleep, I still end up seeing my ideas pop into my dreams.”

“Have you ignored everything I just said?”

I give her a sheepish look. “Probably. What did you say again?”

“Claire, you don’t need to do this. All the fuss. It’s not necessary.” She takes her first sip and smiles over the taste. Who doesn’t enjoy a glass of Moscato at noon? “We’ll all be happy hanging at a pool, getting drinks, seeing a show, and maybe hitting the slots.”

“You can’t go to Vegas and not see strippers,” I blurt out. It was a last-minute addition to the itinerary I’m still planning without Nic’s approval. His opinion no longer matters to me. It’s not even like he has any better ideas. He has no ideas at all—except to sabotage all of mine.

“Strippers.” It’s not a question.

“Don’t act surprised. I was able to score tickets based on a lottery system and am shocked my number was pulled. It is fate. And you know it gives us all bad juju to go against fate. Do you want karma to bite you in the ass?”

“None of that stuff you just spewed is actually a thing. Plus, you know Graham will blow a gasket if I’m surrounded by a bunch of dicks.”

I take a sip of my drink and sigh over the delicious flavor. It feels good to be drinking something fun again. The toxin cleanse was intense. “Don’t worry.”

She groans. “That’s what you said last time. And we both know how that turned out.”

“I cannot take full responsibility for that.” If she reminds me one more time about the online dating profile I set up for her, along with a surprise blind date, I may lose it. She is going to have to release some of her animosity toward that whole situation. It totally worked out in her favor anyway, so why the grudge holding? “I promise to keep it classy. Very dignified. I’m all about that shit.”

She shakes her head at me and then laughs at my best pouty face. Works every time. “Fine. But I need to sign a waiver that relinquishes me from Graham’s wrath. You know how that man gets when he is territorial.”

“When is he not territorial, Angie?”

“Good point. See? He’s going to really hate this idea.”

“Pretty sure this entire engagement has brought him to another level of overprotectiveness.”

She lets out an audible exhale. “Hundred percent, yes.”

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