Page 29 of Pulse
“Troy.”
She grins. “You know, this is his specialty. Maybe you should ask him for advice.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not? This seems like the most authentic way for you to get that man over here.”
“That crosses a line from professional to personal.”
“I think?—”
“No,” I say emphatically. “This is just Freddy being a jerk. I won’t embarrass myself by telling him my ex is moving mymagnets around.” I roll my eyes and start up the steps. “That even sounds silly.”
“It’s silly until it’s not.”
“That’s why I’ll call the police and file a report. I need to put my phone on the charger first.”
We clear the upstairs with the bat positioned for a grand slam. Then I head to my bedroom and plug my phone into the wall. Before I look up the number for the police department, I open my texts again.
Me: Hey. Sorry about that. My friend Morgan showed up. I’m fine.
Troy: Good to hear.
Me: I’ll see you in the morning.
Troy: Good night.
For once, I’m too preoccupied to taunt him with emoji. I make a police report instead.
Chapter Seven
Dahlia
There’s not enough coffee in the world to get me through today.
I yawn, filling my mug before I even bother going to my office. I had a cup at Morgan’s before I left for work. But between her house’s subzero temperature, her cat clawing at my bedroom door all night, and the neighbor’s car alarm waking me up at four o’clock, the single cup didn’t touch my level of exhaustion.
And that doesn’t factor in the bad dreams I had when I did manage to close my eyes for more than five minutes.
“Good morning,” Becca says, breezing into the break room. She’s looking smart in her simple black skirt and white button-down. A pale pink bow is delicately wrapped around her ponytail that matches the distinct corded bracelet she wears every single day. She’s effortlessly chic.And rested. “How are you?”
Anxious. Tired. Irritable.“I’m great. You?”
“I’m good.” She pours herself a cup of coffee, too. “I was talking to one of my friends from Kismet Beach on the way to work this morning. That always makes for a good start to the day.”
“It is always nice to talk to old friends. Kismet Beach. That’s in Florida, right?”
“Yeah.” She takes a sip. “I’m originally from Texas, but I moved to Indiana. I lived there for a while and then moved to Florida.”
“How in the world did you wind up in Savannah?”
“Foxx Carmichael, actually,” she says. “He’s from Kismet Beach. I was friends with his brothers’ girlfriends. Long story short, he got me a job here.” She pauses, wrinkling her nose. “Sort of. It’s complicated.”
“Of course it is. Foxx is involved,” I say, laughing.
“Exactly.” She heads for the door. “Have a good day, Dahlia.”
“You, too, Becca.”
