Page 99 of Beauty
Cat: That’s not where I was going with this…
I snort.See, everything sounds sexual.
Cat: I’m talking about a career.
My heart twists. A career. I had one of those. And I loved it. What I’m doing now? It’s a job.
She means well. I know she hates that I’ve lost everything just as much as I do, but I wish she’d leave it alone. Keeping myself convinced that the designing part of my life is over is hard enough without having to constantly reassure everyone else.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and when Hannah’s name appears on the notification banner, I breathe out a sigh of relief. This is the perfect excuse to ignore Cat’s last message.
“Hey, I’m almost ready. Want me to meet you at your room?” I snag my purse from the bed and give myself one last look in the hotel mirror. Though I’m wearing Bolts blue, I learned my lesson this week and left the jersey at home.
In answer, a baby cries. “About that,” Hannah says. “Mav is running a fever.”
I wince. “Oh my gosh. How can I help?” I have almost no experience with babies, but I’d be an asshole if I didn’t offer.
“Actually,” she hedges. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.” I tap the speaker button and navigate to my Notes app so I can jot down a list of what she needs. Surely there’s a pharmacy nearby.
“Can you bring Ollie to the game?” she asks as Mav’s cries get louder. “Shh,” she soothes him. “I hate to burden you?—”
“It’s not a burden at all,” I say quickly.
I really don’t mind bringing the little guy, and he’s certainly easier to deal with than a baby. Though I’m not sure Noah will be keen on leaving his son in my care. Not after our less-than-cordial conversation on the plane.
And what if he’s the overprotective type? I could see that. He probably doesn’t leave his child with anyone who doesn’t have babysitting certifications and Red Cross training.
Nose scrunched, I lock my phone. “Are you sure Noah would be okay with it?”
“Already texted him. He said he’s okay with it as long as you don’t mind. I just sent you his contact info. Text him so he has your number.” A rustling sound dampens her voice for a moment, but then she’s back at full volume. “I’ll have Ollie ready in five. Sound good?”
My screen lights up, and when I tap on Noah Harrison’s contact card, apprehension rises inside me. Texting him means he’ll have my number.
But I offered to watch Ollie, and this is part of the gig. Obviously his father will need a means of contacting me. After tonight, I’ll delete his number and tell him to do the same. Then forget I ever had it in the first place.
Absolutely harmless.
Right. Like anything involving Noah Harrison is harmless.
Me: Hi, this is Sienna Langfield.
I reread the message a dozen times, second-guessing myself. It’s professional enough, right? Not flirty. Not awkward.
Instead of hitting Send, I read it again. And again until the words jumble together.
I shake my head to clear my vision. This is absurd. I hit Send and then type out another message.
Me: Hannah asked me to take Ollie to the game. If you’re okay with that, I’ll head over and pick him up now. Is there anything I need to watch out for? Allergies? Foods we should avoid?
I stew over that message as well, pondering whether I should include something else. Something that proves I’m a responsible adult willing to do him a favor and not a woman trying to get into his pants.
Because I’m not.Trying,that is.
Been there, done that, obviously, but not going there again.
With a huff, I hit the little blue arrow, and when the whooshing sound signals that the message has been sent, I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the screen, waiting for a response.
