Page 117 of Bad For A Weekend

“You hurt her, and I will break your fucking neck and bury you in the desert,” I say as we pass.

“What?”

“You heard me.” The elevator door closes, leaving me feeling like the asshole I am.

Baylor

Ihave seconds to pull myself together before Grayson arrives. Running to the kitchen, I grab a paper towel and dab at my damp eyes. I hope my makeup isn’t smudged. A knock at my door leaves me no time to check.

I had so many fantasies about Owen showing up here, but none included him belittling me for making an honest mistake, one that I’ve never made before. But no one’s home, and there’s a button at the back of my neck that I was having a hard time with. What are the odds someone other than Grayson would show up at the exact time of our date?

Apparently greater than I thought.

I don’t have time to think about this or the thick manila envelope taunting me from where I stashed it after Owen left. I have half a mind to throw it away, but curiosity stops me.

Opening the door, I plaster on a fake smile. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He looks me up and down. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yep.” I step into the hall and lock up. “Let’s go.”

Grayson drives us to a trendy Indian restaurant downtown. We make small talk, mostly about the articles we’re working on, though I only touch on mine since even thinking about Owen is a bad idea right now.

“I hope you like Indian food. I didn’t even ask,” he says once we’re seated.

“I love it.” I settle my napkin on my lap.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know. You seem off.”

How intuitive of him. But this isn’t his problem, and it’s not appropriate to talk about another man while I’m on a date.

“Guess I’m just nervous. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date.”

“I don’t date that often either,” he admits. “Between school, swim, and the paper, I don’t get much time off.”

“Same,” I say and smile uncomfortably.

We order our meals, and though I try to keep up with the conversation, my heart and head aren’t in it. I can’t stop processing what happened back at the condo, and I’m even more curious about the envelope.

“Okay, that’s enough faking it. Tell me what’s going on.” Grayson sets his fork down.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re physically here, but your head is somewhere else.” He takes a sip of the gin cocktail the server recommended. “Lay it on me. Maybe I can help.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“No, I really do. I like you, Baylor. Even if it’s just as a friend because I think this might have to do with the man who threatened my life when I picked you up.”

I choke. “He did what?”

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