Page 5 of The Angel and the Agent

Amelia was parched. The day had been long and exhausting. She had been so focused on Maggie there had been little time for self-care. But that was how it should be, and she knew one day Maggie would do the same for her, if it ever became her turn. She thought of Piedmont Bonvoy and had to calm the nervous flutters in her stomach. They weren’t there yet; they might never be there. They had only been dating a few weeks. Amelia hadn’t even been certain she should invite him as her date for the wedding, but when she’d brought it up, Piedmont had seemed enthusiastic.

But after three dances with him, she suddenly realized how incredibly thirsty she was. When was the last time she’d had a glass of water? Her throat felt dry, her skin felt dry, and her lips felt especially dry. If she planned to do any kissing later, and she definitely did, then she needed hydration, stat.

“Well, well, well. Amelia Eldridge, we meet again.”

Amelia knew who spoke the words before she turned to look. She stood upright, the bottle of water grasped tightly in her fingers.Ethan.Six months ago she’d had a major crush on him. And then, after a blush-inducing makeout session, he had disappeared off the radar. She had dreamed about himseemingly forever after that, but those days were over now. He’d had his chance, and he’d blown it.

She whirled to face him with a light smile, revealing none of the irritation she felt in his presence. “Ethan, nice to see you. Maggie and Ridge got their perfect wedding, don’t you think?” She took a step forward, intending to bypass him, but he put out a hand, halting her progress.

“Where are you rushing off to?” he asked.

“I got my water, and I’m heading out,” she said, holding the bottle aloft for his inspection. They’d been out of water bottles in the reception hall, but a helpful waitress had indicated there were more in the pantry. “Did you want one?”

“Water, right,” Ethan said, his gaze falling to her lips. “Isn’t this the pantry? That’s kind of our thing, you know?”

What was he talking about? Did he genuinely believe she’d lured him to the pantry for a repeat makeout session, that all pantries were now connected to him in her mind?

“Are you for real?” she blurted.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about that night in Maggie’s pantry,” Ethan said. “I know I have.”

Amelia was speechless, and it took a lot to leave her speechless. Did he really believe she’d been pining for half a year, six months in which they’d had no contact after he promised to call her? Okay, it had been her idea to go into the pantry in the first place, but he’d been a willing participant. And if she hadn’t started something, he would have. Their attraction had been mutual, as had their flirting. The only difference was that Amelia believed it was heading somewhere when it clearly wasn’t.

“I must have missed your call,” Amelia said. People like Ethan got away with bad behavior because they were handsome and charming, but Amelia was having none of it.

“Life’s been busy,” he said. “I started a new job.”

“So did I. And I finished school, and I moved cross-country to a new city, got a new apartment. And yet I called everyone I was supposed to,” she said.

“Hmm,” he said, his eyes still on her lips. It was obvious to Amelia he wasn’t hearing a word she said, so she decided to speak his language. She grasped his shirt, drawing him closer so they were toe-to-toe, chest-to-chest.

“I was thinking,” she said.

“Yeah?” His eyes glazed as his hands slid to her waist. Clearly he thought this was leading somewhere fun.

“I’d like to see you again.”

“You would?”

She nodded. “But this is my sister’s wedding. I don’t want to risk any sort of distraction on her day.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Maybe sometime you could show up at the salon when I’m about to end a shift.” Her hands slid to his shoulders. “I could slip a cape on you.” He nodded again, more enthusiastic this time. Her hands threaded into his hair and she stood on her toes until her lips were almost but not quite brushing his, and she whispered. “And then I could color the gray out of your hair.”

He blinked a few times. “Wait, what?”

“Your hair.” She rifled his scalp with her fingers. “You should let me color it.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Because of the gray,” she said.

“I’m not going gray,” he argued.

She plucked a gray hair and handed it to him, taking a step out of his embrace as she did so. “It’s looking a little more salt than pepper up there, but maybe that’s the way you like it. With your coloring, you could totally pull off gray hair. Of course you might have to change your handle, but ‘Silver Fox,’ has a certainring to it.” She winked at him and patted his chest. “See you later, Foxy.”

When she walked away and left him standing there, dumbfounded and speechless, she had to fight hard not to laugh. Nowthathad been fun, almost but not quite as fun as making out with him in the first place.

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