“When you’ve had enough, you’ll kick me out.”
She laughs, giving me another hug. “Shut up. I’m not kicking you out. Free babysitting!”
That makes me smile. “You know it. What else will I be doing all year?”
* * *
I never got a photo of your gorgeous new ring. Daisy’s text glows in the darkness, and I roll onto my side so it doesn’t wake Ollie.
I moved out of Elliot’s place. You were right. My phone starts to ring, but I silence it quickly. Can’t talk. Sharing a room with Oliver.
Want a job? I’m meeting Miles and Spence tomorrow about a gala. I need a florist.
Chewing my lip, I think about it. I quit doing flowers so long ago. I don’t have any contacts here.
They want to do it in Oceanside. You know everybody there.
I do need the money…
Real anticipation tickles my stomach at the prospect of seeing Spencer again. I actually turned him down because of Elliot—and after that kiss.
Heat replaces anticipation as I remember his smoky eyes, the scruff on his square jaw… His angry square jaw that moves when his teeth clench.
No.
No men.
Two tomorrow. I’ll pick you up. Text me the address.
Chewing my lip, I hesitate. I should say no. I should tell her it’s not a good idea… Only, it’s a job, and God knows, I’m broke. Tamping down my libido, I send her Courtney’s address.
I’m a mature, professional woman. I never get involved with clients.
Besides, I’ll be working with my cousin. It’s perfectly safe.
Chapter 4
Spencer
“Eleven-ten.” Miles gloats, and I shake my head, rubbing the towel through my damp hair.
“I tweaked my back.”
We’re in the luxury locker room of the Palmetto Lake Club downtown, where I’ve been kicking his ass at our weekly game of racquetball—until today.
“I beat you fair and square. Admit it.” He closes the pine door of his locker, securing it with a thumbprint.
“I have no problem admitting if you beat me fair and square.” I pull my suit coat over one shoulder and toss my tie around my neck while doing the same. “I tweaked my back when I hit the wall in our second match.”
“Tweaked your back,” he scoffs, tossing his racket under his arm. “Don’t be a poor loser, Freeze.”
Exhaling a laugh, I drop the thick white towel in the bin and grab my racket. Winning is so commonplace to me, I let it go—even though my right side is hurting like a mother. “Congrats on your win.”
His elfin face pinches. “You’re patronizing me.”
“Good God, Miles.” I stretch to the side as I flip my tie around, fastening a small Windsor knot. “Don’t be a poor winner.”
“Fuck, look at the time.” He slaps his Rolex. “We’ve got to meet Daisy in twenty minutes.”