Page 56 of Ten Day Affair
I blink up at him. "No. I told you there is nothing there, Kip. God."
Kip raises both hands. “I’m not an idiot, Sam. I saw the way he looked at you on that tour. And the way you avoided looking back, like your pupils might combust. I was just being a gentleman and not calling you out in front of him.”
I snort. “Such a gentleman.”
He grins. “You’re giddy. Like full-on pre-date high school energy.”
“I’m not giddy. I told you, I'm hungover.”
“I thought we were calling it post-wine fatigue.”
"Touché."
"So, are you going to keep denying this to me?"
I glance down at my coffee, willing it to cool my entire nervous system. “I don’t know what it is.”
"I can appreciate that. At least you've admitted it's something."
“It’s not nothing, but it’s not something either. I can’t quite describe it.”
“Well, tonight should help with that. Three drinks in, dancing to ‘Satellite’ is a vibe check if I’ve ever heard one.”
I laugh, but my stomach twists. Because that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. That tonight might define whatever this thing is. Or isn't.
And I’m not sure which answer would scare me more.
Kip’s pager goes off.
He groans, glancing down. “I’ve got to run an emergent trauma consult. Kid fell off a second-story balcony. Neuro's already down there, but they want me on the surgical side.”
I wince. “Yikes. Good luck.”
He grabs a chart, half-jogs backward. “Don’t get too sober before Swifty’s! Hair of the dog.”
I’m still mid-eye roll when my phone rings.
I answer with a smirk. “What are you doing calling me, Arden? You’re supposed to be mentally pre-gaming with 2002 frat-house nostalgia.”
Her sigh crackles through the line. “Change of plans. I have to fly to Atlanta.”
I freeze. “Tomorrow? What's up?”
“PR crisis. Jules Farraday went full meltdown in a hotellobby. Allegedly smashed her fiancé’s phone into a flower arrangement and screamed something about his crypto mistress. TMZ already has the footage. Can't wait until tomorrow. I'm so sorry.”
“Shit,” I breathe. “That’s dramatic.”
“Right? I mean, I’m impressed with the range. But now I have to go slap a bow on the disaster before it bleeds into her skincare brand.”
I glance at the time. “So no Swifty’s?”
“No Swifty’s. I’m heading to the airport now.”
I exhale. “Okay, I’ll let Cole know it's off.”
I can't help but feel a little disappointed, even with my protests to her for orchestrating this.
“Why would you cancel?”
