Page 52 of Crawl for Me

“With what?” I ask, sitting back.

“The introductory meeting with Lark & Dune.” She takes a sip of her coffee and grimaces. “They want you at their office instead of them coming here. No idea why. But I’ve said you’ll do it.”

I blink. “They want me there? At their office?”

“Mm-hmm. One p.m. Don’t be late.” Her gaze cuts down to my desk.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Sure. Of course.”

I reach for the edge of my screen like I’m already pulling up the file, trying to look productive even though my brain’s already scrambling to rewire the rest of my day.

“And take Sable with you.”

My stomach plummets.

Sable. Shit. Shit. Shit. Alright, breathe. Don’t flinch. You’re fine.

I give her a tight nod. “Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

She walks off without another word, heels clacking back toward her office.

I sit there for a second, cursor blinking on the screen. My heart’s thudding like it missed the memo that this is supposed to be professional. Just a meeting. Just work.

It’s not like we haven’t shared space in the last few days. We’ve been in the same room plenty—glances across conference tables, quick trades of files, a few professional updates on timelines. But that’s all there’s been. We haven’t touched, haven’t spoken outside of logistics—not one word that meant anything.

And now I have to walk to her desk and ask her to get in a car with me and drive forty-five minutes across the city and sit beside me at a client table like we’re just coworkers. Like I haven’t spent every night craving her skin.

But I force myself to stand, grab the folder, and straighten my spine, mentally psyching myself up like I’m heading into a gunfight and not walking twenty steps across the bullpen.

She’s typing, head bent slightly, a pen between her teeth, hair clipped up messily. She doesn’t see me at first, which buys me all of five seconds to get my shit together.

My chest tightens.

God, I miss her.

I step a little closer and clear my throat. “Hey—Sable?”

“Hmm?” she murmurs, not looking up.

“Uh—got word from Marla. Lark & Dune want the intro meeting done at their office instead.”

She blows out a heavy breath and straightens in her chair. “Are you serious?”

“Uh—yeah,” I say, shifting the folder in my hands. “She wants both of us there by one.”

She powers off her monitor, stands, and shrugs on her coat in one fluid motion, mouth set in a firm line.

“I can drive us,” I blurt. “We’ll make it faster if⁠—”

“It’s fine,” she cuts in smoothly, not even glancing up as she snaps her tablet case shut and tucks it into her bag. “I’ll drive. You’re the account lead. Gives you a chance to go over the notes one last time on the way.”

Oh. Right. Of course.

But the last time we were in a car together on our own…

No. Stop it.

“Yeah,” I stammer, clutching the folder tighter. “Good idea. That’s… yeah, that’s smart.”