Tequila, Tequila

As luck would have it, the name on the screen was Cameron, but given how enthusiastically he was calling me, it wasn’t to give me a day off.

“Hello?”

“Mallory! I’m in trouble.”

“Oh, God. Do I need to bail you out of jail?”

“What?” He laughed. “No, but good to know you’re willing, should the need ever arise.”

I slumped onto my bed. “What’s the problem?”

“My grandfather wants to look at some properties this afternoon. I don’t have time to go to the office to get the information on the houses he wants to see. Can you do me a huge favor and run by the office and bring them to my house?” He rushed the words out. “I’m running stupidly fucking late because my alarm didn’t go off, and I’m basically going property to property today.”

“Uh… Okay. When do you need them?”

“In the next thirty minutes.”

I looked down at my wet, towel-clad body. “All right, but I should warn you that I just got out of the shower, and the fanciest thing I’m going to be wearing is yoga pants.”

“You’re good. It’s fine. Go into the office late. Can you do it?”

I made a noise that sounded vaguely like a starving raccoon before ultimately giving in. “Text me your address.”

“You’re the best ever, and I owe you dinner. I’ll send it right now. I’ll leave the front door unlocked for you. Gotta go.” He hung up before I could say goodbye.

I guess I was wearing yoga pants this morning.

I quickly set to getting ready, stopping long enough only to pull my thick hair into a braid and do something with the mess that were my eyebrows.

Oh, and lipstick.

Just because you were wearing yoga pants and had wet hair didn’t mean a lick of lipstick wouldn’t make your day brighter.

I hurried into the kitchen. “Hey, Mom, I need to get some info from the office and take it to Cameron at home. Can I borrow your car?”

She looked up from her plate of French toast. “Don’t you want breakfast?”

“Emergency,” I said. “Save me some?”

Mom nodded. “My keys are in the bowl. I’m meeting Sandra and Kate at ten for coffee—will you be long?”

“Nope. I’ll be back in less than an hour. Thanks!” I blew her a kiss and snatched her keys from the bowl, then headed out to her little Ford.

I climbed in and made my way to the office. It was freaky being here before eight when Main Street was all but dead. Mostly because I was able to get a parking spot right in front of the building, which was weird in itself.

I pulled up the key. Cameron’s text also detailed what information he wanted for his grandfather’s showings so I knew exactly where to find it. It didn’t take me long to get up to his office and find the folder labeled, “Grandpa.”

Snatching it up, I headed back out, locking the door behind me, and plugged Cameron’s address into the GPS built into the dashboard. It showed a ten-minute drive, so I set the folder down on the passenger seat and pulled away.

The drive out to Cameron’s house was pleasant and quiet. I didn’t get stuck in any traffic, and I ventured into a side of town I was relatively unfamiliar with.

The houses were big and beautiful, stinking of money I didn’t have and never would have. The yards were perfectly trimmed and landscaped, completely beautiful and dreamy.

Weird to describe one as dreamy, I know, but whatever.

I pulled up on the curb in front of Cameron’s house. It was less landscaped than the others around, and I was also pleasantly surprised to see that it was a little smaller than the others around.

I parked and pulled the keys, slipping the folder up against my stomach as I got out of the car. I locked it, although I probably didn’t need to in this neighborhood, and headed for the front door.

Even though he said he’d left it unlocked, it didn’t feel right for me to just barge in there like it was nothing. I hesitated on the front step, staring at the dark blue front door inside of me.

The last time I’d seen him, I’d wanted to kiss him.

This wasn’t going to be awkward at all.

At least I had the winning combination of lipstick and yoga pants. That was all a girl really needed to be successful in life.

Lipstick. And yoga pants.

I knocked three times and pushed the door open. “It’s Mallory. I have the info you wanted,” I called, hovering in the hallway. There was no answer, so I shut the door behind me and called out his name.

Nothing.

Hesitantly, I moved through into the rooms. I walked through a tastefully decorated living room in blue and gray, then peeked into a home office that was about as tidy as his actual office.