Page 18 of Tight Spot

Shit. This wasn’t good. Not at all.

“Yes, actually, short-term is perfect for me.”

“Really?” If she’d seen my picture, I assumed she knew who I was. Meredith hadn’t taken mine, and I sure as hell hadn’t sent her any, so that meant the only way she found a picture of me was online. There was no shortage of them there.

“Um. Yeah, so I’m guessing Meredith didn’t tell you a lot about me either?”

“Nothing.”

And now I was thankful for it. It worried me yesterday, but based on the sound of her voice alone, I wanted to be the only one to discover her. Learn from her.

“How about we change that?”

“Okay. That sounds good. Sometime later this week, maybe? Meet for dinner or something?”

“What about tonight. You all right coming to my house?”

“Tonight?” Her voice went high-pitched.

Shit. It was Saturday. Of course she’d be busy. Probably had plans.

“If you can. But to be honest, I really need to talk to you about what I need, and I don’t really have the time to put it off anymore.”

Silence hit the phone, heavy and thick, so much I checked the screen to make sure I hadn’t lost her.

“Um. I don’t…I mean, tonight works, but I need to close my store…”

What store? Where? She had to be close. My pulse raced. So many questions. Such a surprising and very much unwanted response.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Yeah, tonight. That’s fine with me, but… your place?”

I couldn’t blame her. What stranger invited a woman to his house for a first meeting? But I needed somewhere private…

Damn. I could think of something.

“How about I see if I can make reservations for a restaurant. Are you okay wth coming into Brentwood?”

Hell, I didn’t even know where she lived.

“Brentwood’s great, actually. I could be there around seven? Seven-thirty.”

“Seven thirty it is.” I’d never had adatesound so much like a business deal.

Which was exactly what this was. Shit. I needed to remember that.

“I’ll text once I make the reservation. That okay?”

“Sounds good.” There was a smile in her voice now. And damn… Ireallywished I’d asked Meredith for that picture. “See you later?”

“You will. Bye, Hailey.”

As soon as the call ended, I tossed my phone onto the couch and scrubbed my hands through my hair. They ripped through my hair band, and I yanked it out of my hair, redid my ponytail, and shoved off the couch.

My house was clean because I was a clean freak and hired cleaners in addition to picking up after myself.

My fridge was stocked with meals for the week, delivered earlier that day to keep me fit both during the season and off. I’d considered having a professional chef come in and cook meals for me in my kitchen, but that lasted two weeks before the mess drove me crazy, along with the clattering noise of pots and pans. Now I had them delivered.

No mess. No fuss. And no stranger in my home once a week.

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