Page 40 of Fluke
I laugh. “Oh, every one I’ve ever had.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. None of that matters. The person you were talking to probably did the same thing, and they were worried about what they said, not what you said.” She shrugs. “You’re going to keep the promotion. You earned it. And you’re going to stop sweating the fact that you told him … whatever you told him.”
“But, Honey, I have to take him on this trip with me. My boss will want to talk to him after to get his input on the program. What do I do about that?”
She grins. “Do you know an eligible bachelor?”
I laugh. “That’s what my best friend said to do.”
“She’s right. Have some fun with this, Pippa. Live. Be young. Do silly things. You’ll never get this time back.”
I gaze off into the distance. A bubble of excitement forms in my core.
“You’re my dream girl, Dream Girl. Just know that I think the world of you, and if you ever need anything or change your mind …”
Could I, though? Could I ask Jess to go with me?
My muscles clench as my heart rate doubles. Energy bursts through my veins.
He would go. I know he would. I’m pretty sure he would, anyway.
Oh shit. Could I handle that?
I grin.I could handle that.
No, you can’t. I frown.That would make this web I’ve woven even more tangled.
I snort.Tangled like our sheets.
The sound of the recliner lying back snaps me out of my head.
“That soup is delicious,” Honey says. “My stomach is a little wobbly, but I’ll sip on it this afternoon. Thank you for thinking of me.”
I stand and help her organize her blanket across her body. “You are very welcome. I’m going to go, but you call me if you need me. Do you still have my number?”
She nods. “And Pippa?”
“Yes?”
“Call whoever you were thinking about. That smile said it all.”
I blush, returning her grin, and head for the door. Once I’m outside, my feet fall faster. It’s as though I’ve made up my mind without my mind knowing it.
How do I ask him? Do I call? Text? Meet him face-to-face?
None of those options feel right. A call is awkward. A text too casual. Seeing him face-to-face makes me want to die, so that’s out.
But what’s left?
I rush into my apartment and dig around my room until I find the bag I had at Shade House. The notebook is there.
“I’ll propose this as a favor—a business transaction,” I say, taking the notebook to the table. “I’ll play it cool enough to sound like no big deal but formal enough so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.”
With a few clicks, I find the Laguna Homes website and Jess’s email address.
Blood soars past my ears, blocking out all other sounds. My fingers tremble as they open my email app and type in the information.
To: Jess Carmichael
