Page 86 of Breaking News

I wasted days refreshing my phone, convinced my whole world was falling apart, while the ocean was right there, waiting.

And my current predicament wasn’t all that different. Nothing we could do here in New York would change whatever might happen when we returned to Indiana.

I shook my head to clear the panic from my mind. “Maybe we should leave Woodvale in Woodvale, and try to enjoy ourselves today. The time's gonna pass either way, right?” I adjusted the strap of my tote bag on my shoulder again. “And the outcome’s gonna be the same. Nothin’ we can do from here.”

Graham was smirking.

Almost annoyingly so.

“What?” I asked him, letting out a little giggle.

“You’re laying that accent on pretty thick there, Tennessee.”

My cheeks felt a little warm because I hadn’t realized I’d let my accent slip out so much, but at least it was making Graham smile. He liked it. As I stared up at the stubble on his chin and those deep blue eyes, all I could think about was how much I wanted him to be the man I could take home to Tennessee withme someday. I could definitely see him sitting on the porch swing with my mom, drinking her dangerously sweet tea, and listening to her tell stories about me as a child.

He was the first man in a long time who had me thinking that way.

Before I could let myself think about it, I grabbed Graham by the front of his shirt and pulled him behind the nearest pillar, hiding us from the few people who remained in that lounge. Graham barely had time to register this slightly aggressive maneuver before my mouth was on his.

His eyes widened with shock, but a second later, his hands cradled my face and he kissed me back with the same level of urgency. “You make it so hard to be good,” he whispered against my lips when we came up for air, his voice low and rough. His thumb stroked my cheekbone before he reluctantly dropped both hands to his side, glancing past me to make sure no one was looking in our direction.

I grinned at the messy lipstick smudge on his chin as I leaned on my hands against the pillar. “You’re going to need to wash your face. You’re a mess.”

“You say that like it’s my fault,” he said, his jaw clenching from the smile he was trying to suppress. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh, it definitely is,” I said, pulling myself off the pillar. As I started to walk off, I shot him a flirty look over my shoulder. “Try to behave today.”

“I already failed,” he called after me, voice low enough that only I could hear.

I pulled the conference guide from my tote bag as I walked, skimming the schedule like I hadn’t just made a wildly impulsive decision in the middle of this convention center lounge. Just before I turned the corner, I glanced back at Graham, expecting to catch him still watching me with that sexy smirk.

But he wasn’t.

His head was bowed, with one hand gripping the front of his hair like he was trying to hold something in. Or hold himself together. I froze when I rounded the corner, letting my tote bag awkwardly slide off my shoulder.

Was he only trying to pacify me with that promise he’d just made? Did he not really believe everything was going to work out?

A woman in a teal volunteer t-shirt stepped up beside me, toying with her lanyard as she smiled. “Hi there! Can I point you in the right direction?”

Sure, if you’ve got a shortcut out of this disaster.

***

By the end of the day, I’d gone to three breakout sessions, one panel discussion, and a keynote speech about exposing corruption no matter what the cost. Meghan was practically vibrating next to me the entire time, taking notes as if she didn’t already know enough about this particular topic to be teaching it herself.

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos, I’d escaped down to the hotel for a criminally expensive packet of ibuprofen to take the edge off the ache crawling from my lower back down into my legs.

At least I finally had an appointment with a rheumatologist the next day—and with any luck, I’d finally get some answers.

For now, I had cocktail hour.

The ballroom was packed wall-to-wall with media professionals one-upping each other beneath oversized glass pendant globes that dangled from the ceiling. I was dying to talk to Graham again, just to be reassured he wasn’t regretting everything we’d ever done, but he was over by the wall, deepin conversation with an acquaintance. Meghan said the man worked for theIndyStar.

I tried not to stare, half-listening to the conversation around me. Xander, Meghan, Chase and I hovered around a standing table where we sipped our drinks and critiqued the charcuterie board.

“Someone recognized me from YouTube,” Chase shared, popping an olive into his mouth.

Xander didn’t even look up from the slice of prosciutto between his fingers when he asked, “Because of your ghost hunting channel, or was it your viral ‘shit’ incident?”

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