Page 108 of One Last Shot

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t give her my number?”

“Not if you know what’s good for you.” He probably assumes I’ll beat his ass if he tries, but really, I’m just saving him from Petra’s response.

“You going home with her tonight?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” I respond instead.

“So yes, then,” he says.

I’m not going home with her, actually. She lives with me.The words float through my brain, but I trap them there and take another long swallow of my beer instead. She doesn’t technically live with me. She stays with me when she’s in New York. We need to figure out a more permanent solution, and I’m not talking to my teammates about our relationship until it’s more settled.

Tonight. We have to figure things out tonight.

“All right, I’m heading out,” Thompson says. “Just wanted to say goodnight. And good party. Mystery woman over there did a nice job.”

“I’ll let her know,” I say, and we clasp each other on the shoulder in farewell.

The last few people leave and we’re down to only me and Petra, her staff, and the waitstaff. She ambles over to me in those sexy heels, leans into my shoulder, and sighs. “My feet are killing me,” she groans.

“Want me to massage them?” I ask, and nod toward the empty couches. “Plenty of space.”

“I would feel guilty if everyone were cleaning up around us while I sat here with you rubbing my feet.”

“I’ll wait until cleanup is done.” This seems like a good place to have the conversation we need to have tonight. If we go home, we’ll end up naked in bed. We need to talk first.

“Okay, you’ve got a deal.”

I set my beer on the edge of the balcony to my right. “Okay, what do we need to do?”

“You’re paying for this,” she says, looking around the space, “you’re not working.”

“I’d feel guilty if everyone was cleaning up around me while I stood here having a beer.”

“Touché.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Fine, we need to move these couches and tables inside.” She points toward the glass wall to the inside space where food was served. The waitstaff is already in there, breaking down tables and pulling the spindle chairs to the side of the room.

It doesn’t take long for me and Petra’s staff to move the couches and coffee tables inside, then I head out to start grabbing the leather barstools and bringing them in too. “How’s this all work?” I ask Petra when she steps up beside me. “You rent the furniture and they deliver it for the event?”

“Pretty much, yes. The hard thing is finding enough of the same items for a coherent look. Sometimes for events like this, where I want eight matching couches, I have to buy the furniture. Then Morgan turns around and sells it online, but that adds a whole layer of complexity when you’re only in town for a few days. Back in Park City, I have a whole storage unit with stuff we keep to reuse at events.”

I pull out one of the last two barstools for her. “Here, sit for a minute. Let me rub your aching feet.”

Petra glances into the interior loft space where her team is chatting as they grab a few remaining items and head toward the elevator. “You good, Petra?” Morgan calls.

“Yeah, we’ll lock everything up,” she calls out. “Thanks everyone!”

They call out their goodbyes and Morgan says, “Okay, see you at the airport tomorrow.”

I see Petra’s shoulders reflexively stiffen, and I hope it means she hates the idea of leaving as much as I hate the thought of her going.

“See you then,” she says.

“Are you flying back to Park City with them?” I ask as we watch them all get into the elevator.

“No, but my flight to LA leaves at the same time as their flight through Denver, and apparently our gates are really close. Morgan had mentioned that earlier, which is”—she shrugs—“whatever. I just wasn’t planning on being in work mode tomorrow morning.”

“You seem like a pretty close-knit team.”

“We are. It’s been hard on them with me being in LA.”

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