Page 33 of The Mistakes I've Made
A lot.
I mentally gave myself a pat on the back for flipping on the air-conditioning units and thanked whoever had been genius enough in the past to actually install them.
Considering the state of the rest of the hotel, it was a small miracle.
As I closed the short distance to the door, my hand reaching out for the handle, all I could think about was cool air and having something cold to drink.
“You have mail, you know.”
The masculine voice stopped me in my tracks.
I didn’t even need to look to know who it belonged to.
I spun on my heels and looked to my left, and leaning on the same column with the same sexy smirk was Taylor Sutherland.
At least today, he’d bothered with a shirt.
A small part of me was actually a little miffed about that last part.
Okay, a large part.
If he was going to be here, back on my property, badgering me, I might as well have something nice to look at.
“What do you want, Taylor?” I asked, so hot that I felt like I might melt into a puddle right before his very eyes.
“You have mail,” he said once more, gesturing toward the big, worn mailbox at the corner of my parking lot.
“No, I don’t,” I replied. “I checked it yesterday. I might be new around here, but I know mail doesn’t come at”—I checked my watch on my right arm—“eight thirty in the morning.”
My words didn’t seem to faze him at all.
“Check it again,” he demanded.
The wicked smile on his face caused my belly to flip-flop. Why, I wasn’t sure. Maybe because I remembered how he’d looked without that T-shirt covering his torso. Or maybe because he seemed to know something I didn’t.
And that, I didn’t like.
So, I found myself marching toward the parking lot—not because he’d told me to, but because I couldn’t wait to wipe that smug, stupid smile right off his face.
That was, until I reached the mailbox.
And found a letter.
“Told you,” he whispered into my ear, sending chills down my spine.
I hadn’t even realized he’d followed me.
Or that he’d been standing so close.
I swallowed hard and stepped back, the smell of his woodsy aftershave still lingering around me like a warm cocoon.
Jesus, Lani, get it together.
Clearing my throat, I looked down at the envelope, a very official-looking address at the top.
“Business and Planning Committee?” I said out loud.
“Mmhmm.”
