Page 34 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
I debate how much to tell him. My best friend has always been protective of me, especially when it comes to dating. I didn’t have any brothers to give high school boys side-eyes for liking me, and I didn’t live with my dad during my teenage dating years. Needless to say, my best friend has embraced those roles as personal missions.
So as much as I want to tell him everything that happened yesterday, unless I want a British billionaire to show up in the next hour via his private jet, I’ll just give him the abbreviated version.
Remember how I told you not to get your hopes up about Grayson?
Oh no…what happened?
He works in PR.
And that’s all I need to say. Logan knows everything that happened back then. He knows what kind of relationship I was in, and why I needed out so bad. How I almost lost my career because of it. Sometimes I think he hired me at GameTech just to get me out of that situation.
I’m so sorry, Kat. You really seemed to like him.
I did, but better to find out early. No attachments.
Wait…was I a jinx?
I laugh, because honestly, I had the same thought sometime around 4:18 in the morning, give or take three minutes. Because I swear this happens every time: The second I tell Logan about a guy…BOOM. He’s gone in a week. Usually it’s ghosting or finding out that they’re married. This was new territory.
You’re not a jinx. This was going to happen no matter when I told you.
Wait. How did you find out?
Remember when I asked you if there was anyone else Declan was talking to?
I do and…NO!
Yes. He’s here as well.
I specifically leave out the sleeping arrangements part. We don’t need to get into all of that.
I’m sorry, Kat. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Or if you need someone to vent to. I’m here.
Actually, the reservations that you got me to St. Lucia. Can they be moved up? I’d love to get out of here before the snow hits.
Not a problem. The jet will be waiting for you. I’ll call the hotel and adjust your stay.
Thanks. You’re the best.
Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else.
I set down my phone just as I hear the sound of the water turning off. Okay, no more thinking about what could’ve been with Grayson and me. Men come and go, but a new client means a new designer handbag. And I’ll never say no to a new Louis.
I roll myself out of bed and give myself an internal pep talk. I’m not going to wallow anymore about what could’ve been. No, it’s time for Katherine to enter the chat and serve up the best damn pitch a family-owned hotel has ever listened to.
Because I don’t like losing. Especially when I know there’s a target on my back.
A target I want to kiss a little.
I don’t want to be just standing around when he comes out of the bathroom, so I go over to my suitcase and start digging for clothes. It’s a Katherine day, which means beige bra, plain underwear, a pair of leggings, and an oversized sweater that hangs just off my shoulder for the day. I’ll change into my professional clothes before it’s time to present.
I turn around with the clothes in my hand, and somehow, I didn’t hear the bathroom door click open. Which is why I jump out of my skin when I see Grayson walking out.
Sonofabiscuit…
Is he doing this on purpose? He has to be. Because he’s wearing a towel that’s wrapped around his waist and holding on for dear fucking life. There’s water still dripping from his chest, and his hair is damp. And the best/worst part…there’s steam literally following him out of the bathroom. I thought that could only happen on that one television show.
“Fucking hell…” I whisper, dropping the clothes I'm holding. Because apparently I’ve lost all brain function.
