Hot Stuff

I swallow thickly as Jake takes my phone out of my hand and starts messing with it.

With him occupied, the awkward avoidance of his table mate becomes way too obvious to continue. I glance over to him briefly, and his smile widens enough to give me a view of his straight, white teeth.

Apparently, he’s not an asshole, though, because he doesn’t bother trying to make small talk. I don’t know if he can see that I’m actually dying inside, organs withering to dust, or if he has some motive of his own, but I don’t care. Talking right now would be like talking while on the verge of vomiting—disastrous.

Finally, Jake hands my phone back to me and smiles. “There. That should help a little.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking my phone back and tucking it into my purse. I glance over my shoulder at my waiting table, on which the hostess has left my menu and pulled out my chair. “So…I’m…uh…going to get to my table now.” Aka, my head is literally spinning, and I think it’s best for all of us if this conversation ends here.

Jake smiles understandingly, the kind soul. “Of course. Good to see you, though, Lauren. Hopefully we’ll see you soon.”

I nod. Sure, sure. Maybe after I’ve had time to recover from the fact that people are calling me Garrett’s girlfriend after one flipping date.

I only wish I knew what about that freaked me out more…the normal, this is moving fast freak-out or the freak-out over how much I like the sound of it.

Jiminy Cricket, God Bless America, I’m in some trouble.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, I wipe the sleep from my eyes and try to make sense of the sound I’m hearing. It’s loud and bleating, but the sky is still pitch dark outside my window, so it shouldn’t be my alarm.

I rub at my eyes again, scrubbing away the sleepiness and reaching for mental clarity.

It takes much longer than it should, given how long I’ve been waiting for it to happen, but I finally realize it’s the sound of my phone ringing right beside my pillow.

At some point in the night, after I’d gotten back from my dinner for one, I fell asleep listening to the app Jake loaded for me.

Scrambling quickly, I grab the phone from its spot on my bed, flipping it in my hands until I can get a good look at the screen.

THE Garrett Alexander Calling

Suddenly, my heart starts pounding like a kickdrum inside my chest.

“Hello?” I answer, trying to calm my breathing to something that sounds a little less like I’m asphyxiating.

“Hi there,” Garrett says calmly, his voice rich and beautiful and full of life. I don’t even know that I realized I was holding my breath, but in an instant, it leaves me in a rush, my shoulders sagging for the first time in a week.

“Hi.” The smile on my face is so painfully obvious in my voice that a smarter woman would be embarrassed by it.

“Sorry I haven’t called, but it’s been a fucking crazy week. We’re still up here, but we’re packing up and about to bug out. Finally got this sucker ninety percent contained.”

A whole wave of emotions I don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole rolls through me. Between him very obviously calling me at his first opportunity and the fact that he’s safe and well and I’m this relieved by the news, I’m about a hot minute away from breaking into actual tears.

I shake my head against the sting in my nose and breathe deeply. “That’s okay. I’m just glad to hear from you now.”

“Is everything all right?”

Not wanting to reveal anything too telling, I glance to the clock and read it off. “Um, yeah. I’m just sleepy, I think. It’s three a.m.”

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I didn’t even realize. We’ve been pulling weird and long-as-hell shifts this whole time. I don’t think my internal clock is working right anymore.”

“No, no. It’s okay,” I assure. “I’m glad you called.”

“I should have waited a couple of hours.”

“No, really, Garrett. It’s okay.”

“Good,” he returns, the richness in his voice growing with my obvious warmth. “I guess maybe it’s a good time to ask you on a second date, then?”

I laugh.

“Today, I’m heading straight home and then going to get my kids so I at least get the day with them, but tomorrow night?”

“Given the time, I feel like tomorrow night is a little too complicated in math for me to figure out right now. But I think that’s good.”

Garrett chuckles. “Well, it’s early, but it is technically Saturday. So, tomorrow would be Sunday night. How’s that?”

“I think I can pencil you in.”

“You think you can pencil me in?” he questions, and his responding chuckle makes goose bumps appear on my arms.

“Yeah. I’m, like, ninety-nine-percent positive I can make tomorrow night work…”