Page 8 of The Escape Plan

“Congratulations, we’re both dead,” I reply with a sigh.

“112?”

“What on earth is that?”

He gives me a look. “The other emergency number.”

“Theotherone? You have two different emergency numbers in your country?”

“We do.”

He offers no further explanation, and I continue to stare at him. “Why?”

He blinks, like he’s never considered this to bestrange, then shrugs. “Guess we Irish like to have choices when facing mortal peril. What do you do here?”

“Call 911. But I don’t think a stuck elevator constitutes a real emergency.”

Although, it should. Especially when you’re stuck with someone this good looking.

“Maybe we could call the building management,” the man suggests, looking at me expectantly.

I raise a brow at him. “I do not have a phone in my current possession.”

“Ah.” Irish Stranger smiles. “I wasn’t going to ask but… any particular reason you decided to take an elevator ride unclothed this morning?”

“Because today was going to be a good day,” I say, which earns me a baffled look.

“I see,” he replies slowly, and I have a sudden feeling that nowhe’sthe one wondering if he’s trapped with someone deemed a danger to society.

Suddenly, the elevator lurches, and I do a little cheer. Silently, in my head, of course. Because this man already thinks I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

Nevertheless, I’m delighted. Maybe my luck is turning and I’ll catch Craig before he leaves after all!

My cheeriness, however, is short-lived when I realize the elevator is going up, and not down.

Ping!

The doors slide open at the third floor, and before I can throw myself out of the elevator and make my escape, I instead freeze to the spot.

Because standing in front of me is Andrew. My boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

And he’s holding hands with Lisa. His best friend.

Though they look a whole lot more thanjust friendsat this moment.

Chapter Three

Beckett

While my Gran’sfavorite saying was “what’s for you won’t pass you,” she had many more in her repertoire.

When it came to the conversation of love, Gran’s opinion was “there’s a lid for every pot.” Which pretty much translates tothere’s someone out there for everyone.AKA—no matter how quirky or odd or different you are, there will always be someone to match you.

“You’ll catch your death going out like that” was offered up anytime anyone went outside without a coat on. Didn’t matter how many times I told her colds come from germs, not the weather, she was adamant that she was right.

But for some reason, my grandmother’s inaccurate saying is the first thing that pops into my mind as I stand in the elevator watching the beautiful, raven-haired, towel-clad woman’s arms break out into a million goosebumps.

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