Page 59 of The Layover

“Unless you’re working. If you give us a map and tell us where to go, we can find our way around,” Daria said.

Working. Unless that tile came in PDQ, it was unlikely we’d be doing late hours for a few days. And no more overnight hours, for sure. Thank God Daria was here to save me from myself and my bad decisions. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What’s going on?” Daria asked.

Uh… “Nothing?”

She stared at me.

I returned the favor. Did I have I slept with our clients written on my face or something?

“You called me in the middle of the night, just a few days after you got here, you’re acting cagey now. Tell me.” She prodded.

I had to give her something. “I think Curtis is sabotaging our project.” Wow that sounded stupid when I said it out loud to someone who hadn’t seen what we’d been through.

Her scowl and grunt were encouraging. “Why can’t that asshole leave you alone? What can I do?”

“Apparently he approached the guys about doing this for them before we got involved. So he’s bitter on two fronts. But you’re on vacation. I won’t let you do anything.” I grabbed a bottle of wine out of the fridge, and two glasses, and joined her on the couch.

The lines in Daria’s forehead grew deeper. “I will if I need to.”

“I know.” In fact, having her here helped me relax. Daria always had my back.

“How is it, working with Raul and Diego?” she asked. “They seemed nice enough in the offices—that great blend of silently imposing and outwardly assertive.” She took the bottle from me and filled the glasses almost to the brim.

That sounded exactly like them. “Amazing.” Too much. “I mean good. Great. Fine. They’re fine.” Shut up now.

“So, it’s good, then?” Amusement had replaced Daria’s scorn about Curtis. She sipped her wine. “Does it taste better because it’s from here, or just because I expect it to?”

“Both.” I wanted to tell her. Everything. Such a bad idea, but I hated keeping this secret. “I fucked up, Dar.”

“What’s wrong?”

I stared at my drink as the burgundy liquid wobbled with each breath I took. Nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong. This was a fucking mess.

“Is this why you called the other night? What happened? Was it Curtis?” Daria set her glass down and leaned in.

I didn’t mean to worry her like that. “Curtis didn’t do anything more than what I told you. Not that I know of.” He probably had. “I met the guys on the plane. Raul and Diego.”

“Makes sense. You flew out at the same time.”

Yeah. I really should’ve thought of that on the plane. Hey, me, these sexy men with Italian accents are probably your clients. “They didn’t give me their real names, so I didn’t know who they were.” That was my story, and I was sticking to it. “And you know how my flight was delayed?”

“Yes.”

“For a hurricane. I didn’t want to be alone during the storms.” I didn’t have to say why. Daria understood. “So I invited them to share my room.”

The realization that spread across Daria’s face was almost cartoonish. “Fuck. Did you sleep with them in Philly?”

“No.” Honest truth. Sort of. “I mean, we slept, but there was no fucking.”

Daria seemed to relax. “Okay. So what’s with the build-up?”

I finished my drink in a single swallow, and waited for the buzz to rush to my head. Instead, the wine landed in my stomach with a heavy thud. “I didn’t screw them until we got here. After I figured out who they were.”

“Oh. Oh, Carly.”

I couldn’t interpret Daria’s tone, but it cut deep. “Don’t you dare judge me. I cheered you on when you hooked up with Tanner and Colin.”

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