Page 53 of The Accidental Text

“I like the dress.”

“This old thing?”

We both laugh at my dumb joke, still with the same underlying tones of nervousness.

“So,” he says.

“So,” I reply. I realize that in order for this to go anywhere, we have to move past this awkward meeting stage that we seem to be stuck in. I’ve never done anything like this before. It would seem—with the silly smiling glances that we keep giving each other—that Chase hasn’t either.

“What do we do now?” I ask him.

“Hi, Mags.” Devon sidles up to the table before Chase can answer. He’s got a cocktail in one hand. “You said Hannah was coming,” he says to me, not even noticing Chase standing there.

With Devon’s eyes focused out on the crowd of people gathered around, I sneak a look at Chase, who gives me a sly grin and then mouths, “Devon.” I give him a quick nod.

“She’s not here yet,” I say. “Had to work late.”

“Bummer,” Devon says, and then takes a sip of his drink, still keeping his focus on the party. He turns just slightly to the side, sees Chase standing there, and does a double take. “Sorry, man.” He reaches out a hand to shake Chase’s. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Not a problem,” Chase says. His eyes dart to me and we give each other knowing smiles like we have some sort of inside joke going on. I suppose we do.

“Sorry,” I say. “Devon, this is Chase Beckett. He’s interested in having his car wrapped.”

I’m not sure where those words came from, but they roll off my tongue easily. It was a split-second decision on my part. Telling Devon that Chase was a friend would bring up too many questions. Like where did we meet? Why did I bring this “friend” with me without telling anyone first? My family is too smart andwaytoo nosy. They’d never just accept that he was a friend that I’d never mentioned before and leave it at that. They’d need details.

“Excellent,” Devon says. “We’d love to hook you up. What kind of car you got?”

Chase looks to me; I see his eyes widen briefly before turning back to Devon. “A Honda Accord?”

Devon’s brows pull inward at this. Chase is clearly not as smooth of a storyteller as I am.

“But he’s buying a Lexus LC five hundred,” I add quickly. It was the first car I thought of. We had one come through the shop not that long ago.

“Solid,” Devon says, sounding impressed. “The touring or the sports package?”

“Uh … sports,” Chase says, his answer coming out more in the form of a question. He looks to me, and I give him a small nod.

“Good choice,” Devon says. He reaches into the inside pocket of his navy tailored jacket, pulls out a business card, and hands it to Devon. “Give me a call when you’re ready for a wrap.”

“I’ll do that.” Chase takes the card from him.

Devon looks at me. “Tell Hannah to find me when she gets here.” He gives me a wink and a smirk before walking away.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I say loudly, calling after him.

“Devon and Hannah, huh?” Chase asks, with a double eyebrow raise after Devon is out of earshot.

“Over my dead body,” I say. “It’s the chase. He knows she’s off-limits.”

“And what does Hannah think?”

“She thinks he’s a creeper.”

Chase laughs at that.

Chase holds the business card up, the black lettering of Devon’s name stark against the white background. “I guess I have to buy a car now. How much will the LC five hundred set me back?”

“Ninety K,” I say, and give him a sheepish grin.

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