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And as if I’d conjured him, Robert was suddenly there, standing a few feet away from the dance floor at the golf club. Unable to resist, I walked toward him.
“Hi,” he said as the music swirled around us.
“I thought you were back in Miami,” I replied.
“I was, but it wasn’t the same without you.”
I scoffed. He stepped toward me, closing the final distance between us. “I hope it’s okay that I said that.”
I cocked my head. “Maybe.”
“Good—because I want to say more.”
I blew out a puff of air. “I’m trying to figure out why you came tonight.”
Robert leaned down, placing his lips right next to my ear. “Bottom line, I want you to give us another shot, and help me stay in New Burlington.”
Surprised, I moved to the side and locked my gaze with his. “I don’t know what to say.” I glanced around at the wedding guests, all of them oblivious to us as they moved in time to The Electric Slide. This wasn’t the time or the place for a conversation like this. I stepped backward. “No.”
His jaw slackened and his shoulders slumped. “What?”
“No,” I repeated, more firmly the second time. Blood rushed to my ears as the music rose, and I regarded the guests again. “I can’t believe you picked Morgan’s wedding as the place for you to say something like this to me.”
“I just—”
I stepped to the edge of the dance floor and braced my hand on a cocktail table wrapped in black fabric. “You’re being rude.”
“Rude?”
“First you ghost me, then you basically lie to me, and now you show up at my best friend’s wedding with some kind of agenda?” I was on a roll, the words tumbling out of my mouth. “This isn’t a romantic comedy, okay? We aren’t in a novel, and this isn’t a storybook ending.”
“Never said it was.”
“Do you evenlikebooks?” I demanded. “I mean, this whole time we’ve been, I don’t know, hanging out, you’ve never mentioned any books that you like. Never talked about any favorite authors.” I frowned, tension swelling in my chest. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think you really do.”
“Of course I love books.”
“Nameonefavorite author.” I gripped the table, knowing I was baiting him, my voice getting louder to make up for the change in music. “Right now.”
He blinked. “James Patterson.”
I started.“James Patterson?”
“Sure.” Robert shrugged, his shoulders squeezing his tuxedo jacket. “His books are good.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I was incredulous, and even a little annoyed. Of all the bullshit answers he could have given me, this was probably one of the worst. “He doesn’t even write most of his own stuff. His collaborators do.” I wrinkled my nose. “Or should I say, coauthors.”
“So what?”
I scoffed. “I knew it.”
He moved closer, and I shrank against the wobbly table. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”
“This was never going to work.” I gestured to the small space between us. “Too many red flags. And James Patterson is another one.”
“I don’t see how.” He placed his own hand on the cocktail table, his fingers close to mine, but not touching. And even without that contact, I was suddenly very aware of him. All of him.
Damn it, why does Robert Kilgore have to be so much... man?
