Page 34 of Sugar

The man glanced down at the tablet. “Frank should be here in an hour.”

“Enjoy your weekend off.” Easton opened the other door, and we walked out onto the sidewalk before I turned toward my car.

“How much security do you have?” I asked.

“Twenty-four seven for the building and the parking lot.”

“You must have some big-name clients to justify that expense. Ones like…” I said with faux casualness.

Even in the fading sunlight, I could easily make out the blank look he gave. “My staff work late nights, and we keep sensitive and privileged information on site.”

“I was kidding. My research into my opposition already showed you’re tightlipped about your clients.” I arched a brow. “Though they’re not always the same way. Are you actually friends with Tripp Carter?”

Along with being photographed together, the actor had publicly spoken about Easton on more than one occasion.

“Off record?” he surprised me by asking.

I stopped suddenly and nodded emphatically.

Easton scanned around us before inching closer. I had my neck craned to look up at him, but he still lowered his head and his voice to whisper in my ear, “No comment.”

For a split second, I thought he was annoyed I’d tried prying—even if I’d been mostly joking. But when he stood upright, amusement lit his dark eyes again.

He has a surprisingly teasing sense of humor for someone who barely seems to smile.

I rolled my eyes. “You really are a cruel tyrant.”

He chuckled—and it again sounded so good, even if it was aimedatme. The blow was softened when his palm pressed to my lower back to get me moving again.

His phone dinged, and he pulled it out. His already long strides picked up pace until I was speed walking to keep up.

“You don’t have to walk me if you have somewhere to be,” I offered.

He just gave me a look before returning his focus to his phone as he rapidly typed something.

Once we reached the lot, I said, “My car is right there.”

But he didn’t leave me at the entrance. He walked me all the way to my Jeep even though he clearly had something important to deal with.

I opened my door and turned to him, but my goodbye froze in my throat when he lifted his hand. I barely choked down a sharp inhale as my lust jumped to conclusions. But rather than touching me, he ran his thumb along his jaw again.

My fingers tingled to follow the same path and feel the stubble that coated it. I fisted my hand to fight the urge. “Thanks. And thanks again for the interview. I’ll be in touch when it’s done.”

“Looking forward to it, Maddie.”

He’d said something similar on the phone earlier but hearing it in person was so much better.

Before I said or did something to ruin the moment, I climbed into my Jeep and closed the door.

At least I don’t have to back up in this cramped lot with an audience. With my luck, I would’ve either bumped a car or it would’ve taken me ten minutes and a hundred wheel adjustments.

I pretended not to be aware of Easton still standing nearby as I pulled forward and turned to follow the twisting path of one-ways. I reached the exit and was about to pull out when I checked for oncoming traffic and saw Easton.

Only instead of heading back to his building and parking lot, he walked the other way.

It’s not my business what he has going on. I’m nosy, not a stalker.

And not everything is a potential story.

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