Page 30 of The Lodge

But then again, without those things, I wouldn’t be so drawn to him in the first place.

By the time we make it to our elevator, he’s quiet. The lighting inside is rich and warm, a cozy contrast to the outside world. We’re standing close together, closer than two people alone in an elevatorreally need to be. His body heat radiates between us, and I’m tempted to get even closer—tempted to break the silence, too. But the longer it goes on, the more of a bubble it is.

When the doors open to our shared floor, the bubble finally pops.

“Meet you here in an hour?” he says, eyes bright.

They’re so familiar and so new all at once.

“See you then,” I reply.

I have adate.

To:Sebastian Green ([email protected]); Alix Morgan ([email protected]); Evan Wright ([email protected])

From:Maribel Tovar ([email protected])

Subject:Congratulations!

Hi Team,

Wanted to drop a quick note your way about our early preorder numbers: THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER is already breaking records, and not just here at McClendon & Murphy. Within the first hour of announcing, it shot straight to the #1 spot—inallbooks—and has held steady ever since.

We appreciate your efforts to spread the word online, Sebastian and Evan—and Alix, we hope the writing is going smoothly! I’ll reach out with next steps when the time comes. Congratulations on what is already on track to be the biggest book of the year!

Best,

Maribel

10

I’m seven minutes late, but when I walk out my front door, Tyler’s not there.

My mind skips straight to the possibility that maybe he changed his mind—it wouldn’t be the first time a date has bailed on me without warning, and it happens to Chloe on a semi-regular basis.

I’m just about to text him when his door opens. I smell him before I see him—in a good way, averygood way. Whatever he’s wearing smells spicy, masculine, expensive.

The sight of him is even better.

Tyler’s legs look even longer than usual in those navy pants, fitted but not too tight, tapered at the ankle just above his white sneakers. He has a lightweight cream-colored sweater underneath an unbuttoned khaki button-down, sleeves pushed up to reveal his rather glorious forearms—an unusual combo, but it definitely works. The whole look is put together in a way that makes me wonder where his personal stylist is hiding.

He gives me a little wave, holding up his phone.

Sorry, he mouths.

“Yeah,” he says to whoever’s on the call. “We’ll be there in ten.” A pause. “I’m not sure yet—be ready for either, I think?” Another pause, and then, “Thanks, tell Julie I owe her.”

When he pockets his phone, his eyes go wide like he’s seeing me for the first time.

“You look great,” he says, tucking that piece of hair behind his ear again. Does heknowhow hot he looks when he does that? Did someone tell him?

“You look pretty great yourself,” I reply. “And thank you.”

I make a mental note to thank Chloe, too—we did a quick FaceTime when I realized I’d brought absolutely nothing that would work for a date. My current look is what I’d call a Lululemon miracle: black leggings that accentuate all the right places, some shiny black Ralph Lauren ankle boots that aretechnicallyclassified as rain gear, an oversized black cable-knit sweater that pairs perfectly with the leggings, and a simple necklace that pulls it all together (and makes it look less like bank robber–chic). I spent a little extra time on my hair and makeup to compensate—beach waves for my sandy-blond bob and a rosy glow that’s meant to look like it took no effort at all.

“So where are we going?” I ask as we step into the elevator.

This close, it’s impossible to ignore how incredible he smells.

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