Page 54 of Wicked Dares
“You know I haven’t.”
I didn’t want to tell anybody about Piper, but of all the people I could speak to, Locke is probably the best fit. Everyone else would be at my throat telling me how much of a mistake I made and how I blew it. As if I don’t know.
“I kind of need to be in the loop with this, don’t you think? You told the man you have a girlfriend, and he’s still not signing the contract. What’s the hold-up? Has anything changed?”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Something’s changed, all right,” I mutter. “I’ve just made things worse.”
“How?”
“I ran into Arthur at a restaurant the other night while I was on a date, and he thought the girl I was with is the girlfriend I was telling him about.”
Locke straightens. “Okay, so he saw that you have arealgirl. Did he agree to sign the contract?”
“Not without stipulations.”
“What are they?”
I’m silent for a moment. Then I tell him everything. How I met Piper and the offer I made her.
As expected, he looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
To be fair, I’ve been looking at myself the same way since the moment I made her that offer.
Locke continues glaring, but at least he doesn’t look like he’s judging me.
“If she says yes, then this is sorted, right?” he finally asks in a low, uncertain voice.
I nod. “Technically, yes, but… I’m still waiting on her to say yes. She may say no.”
“If she says no, what then?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
His shoulders slump. “That’s what you keep saying.”
“And I mean it,” I assure him. “I always figure shit out. This is just one of those complicated incidents where I need to think harder. Whatever happens, we’ll know where we stand with Arthur Lockwood next week.”One way or the other.
Locke releases a sigh and nods. “Try not to worry about it. At least you now have a plan. If Piper agrees, that contract will be in the bag.”
“And I can move on.”
“Exactly, so don’t worry about it until you have to.” He smirks. “Worry doesn’t look good on you, bro.”
I chuckle. “Doesn’t feel good either.”
“Come on, let’s go back downstairs.” He cocks his head toward the door. “You look like you need the time-out.”
I nod, and we head back downstairs.
I stay for another hour, then I make the journey home.
It’s a long drive, longer in the traffic.
Rainwater from earlier still streaks the roads, reflecting headlights in blurred ribbons of color. The closer I get home, the tighter the anticipation winds in my chest.
I make it within the hour, and the only spark of hope I get is when I see a little blue Miata parked on my driveway.
I don’t know anyone with a car like that, but I can sure as hell guess who it might be.
