Page 44

I swivel the camera, so she sees my face and smile.

“What are you doing?” she deadpans.

“I’m just reminding you who you’re talking to.”

She glares at me. “Turn the camera around and let me pick your clothes so I can get off here.”

“I liked you better before you married Gannon.” I turn the camera around again. “I’m meeting a woman at the restaurant downstairs, if that matters.”

“Of course, it matters. Where are you staying?”

“I’m staying at the Picante hotel. We’re having dinner at Ruma downstairs.”

“Ooh, I love that hotel. Gannon took me to a Picante in Atlanta a few months ago, and we?—”

Ugh . “Carys?”

“What?”

“I don’t have much time here, so I need this to be about me.”

“You are seriously a pain in my ass.” She sighs dramatically. “Okay. What kind of vibe are we going for?”

“I want to make her fall in love with me,” I say without thinking.

“Well, you aren’t going to do that with clothes.”

I smirk. “I know. I’ll do that after dinner when she rips your carefully chosen outfit off my body.”

“Oh my God,” she groans.

“But I want to set the stage first. I need to be … irresistible—more than usual.” I wince. “Especially because she doesn’t know she’s meeting me for dinner …”

I cringe at the pregnant pause.

“ Excuse me? ” Carys asks, her voice a couple of decibels higher than usual.

I understand her shock. When I say it aloud like that, it also sounds like a bad plan to me. But that doesn’t change how it feels inside me because I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Despite her turning me down … she didn’t. Eyes don’t lie.

Twisting the camera to face Carys again, I frown. “I asked her out, and she kinda turned me down.”

“ What? ” Carys’s eyes go wide before she bursts out laughing. “ You got turned down? ”

I glare at her. “It’s not funny.”

“What happened? How did you manage to get denied? And why are you meeting her if she said no?”

“She said no, but she didn’t mean it. If I get there and she did mean it, I’ll leave her alone and never talk to her again. But she did let it slip where she would be tonight.”

“So you’re just going to show up?”

“Yeah. And see what happens.”

“What if she shows up with another man?” she asks.

“Great. That’ll only help my case.”

She pulls her brows together, amused.

“Come on, Carys.” I roll my eyes. “Do you really think he’ll be better looking than me?”

“I wish I could say no.” Her sigh turns into a chuckle. “You better call me afterward. I’m riveted .”

“Of course, I will. But it probably won’t be until morning because we’ll likely spend the night up here.

” I flip the camera again. “Now, what do I wear? I need to come across … multifaceted. I need to be someone she wants to talk to, but also someone she wants to fuck. I need her to obsess over me like women usually do. Got it?”

She hums as she considers my options. “Okay, no jeans. That’s far too casual for the location.”

“Agreed.”

“Don’t do the black pants. That whole ensemble you’ve put together is a no. I mean, I love it, but it’s just not what you want tonight. It screams stuffy businessman and missionary sex.”

“We sure as hell don’t want that.”

“Ooh, I do love you in blue. Get closer to that blazer on top. Is that blue or green? It’s hard to tell under the lighting.”

I lower the phone. “It’s a dark blue.”

“Do that. Pair it with the pants lying under it, and … do you have any white T-shirts? The nice ones from Halcyon. Not the ones you work out in.”

“Yup.” I go to the closet and pull out the shirt in question. “I brought one.”

“Yes. Love it. Do that shirt and those pants. Pop a pocket square on the blazer for a little playfulness. I’m assuming you have a belt. And wear your white sneakers, not your dress shoes. That will help it make you look like you tried, but not too much.”

“Perfect.”

“Great. Do you have anything else I can help you with? Or can I go back to my life over here?”

I return to the main room, pick up the towel from my shower, tidy up the desk, and straighten the chairs by the windows. My computer is on the desk, and I consider putting it away, but ultimately decide to let it stay. It can’t hurt for her to see that I’m a professional.

The thought of having Kelly alone in my room makes my skin feel itchy, as if it's too tight for my body. Women don’t get under my skin like this. I’m Tate fucking Brewer .

Whatever happened today was a bit of a role reversal, but I’m too intrigued by her to care.

“I do have one more thing I need your help with,” I say, hanging the towel on a hook in the bathroom. “What flavors do candles come in?”

“What?”

“Don’t overthink it. Just give me a few of your favorite candle smells.”

She laughs. “My favorite candle scents ? You’re asking me for my favorite candle scents? What’s happening right now?”

“I’m trying to arm myself with information.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and turn my camera around to look at my best friend.

Her brows are pulled together, but she’s grinning because she knows me better than anyone.

In all the years we’ve known each other, I've never asked her about candles. I’ve never given two thoughts about them.

The fact that I’m asking—that I want to be able to talk about the things Kelly mentioned she likes—isn’t lost on Carys.

Or me. But there’s no time to dig too deeply into that.

“What’s happening, Tate?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I met this woman on the plane.”

Carys grins.

“She’s the whole package. She’s beautiful. Sexy. Funny. She has this …”

It’s more than her sinful body and sweet smile. It’s not just her laugh that I can still hear ringing in my ears. I wanted to pull her onto my lap when she touched me.

It’s the crazy mix of confidence in her language and vulnerability in her eyes that has me unable to stop thinking about her. And I don’t know how to explain that without freaking Carys out. If I said that to her, she’d probably call an ambulance.

“Vanilla is popular,” she says softly. “If you want something more manly, you could say you like anything with amber.”

“Do I like anything with amber?”

She laughs. “Yes. Your colognes have it.”

“Got it. I like amber and vanilla.” I stretch my neck back and forth. “I just need some talking points, you know? I want to talk about things she likes, and she mentioned candles. Oh—and romance books. Got any of those for me?”

“Sure do. My current favorite is Love Hurts by Mandi Beck. Gannon and I read it to each other some nights.”

“ Love Hurts by Mandi Deck?”

“ Beck . Mandi Beck.”

“ Love Hurts by Mandi Beck.” I close my eyes and repeat it, hoping it sticks in my brain. “Okay, I think that’s all I need … for now, anyway.”

Carys smiles. “I can’t wait until this date is over so you can call and fill me in. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

I stand and glance at the time on my phone. “Thanks for your help, but I need to get dressed. Talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Good luck, Tate.”

“I don’t need luck.” I pull the phone away so she sees my abs. “Did you forget who you’re talking to again?”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Good night.”

“Bye.”

I end the call and toss my phone on the bed. My eyes linger on the mattress long after the phone lands.

Excitement stirs in the pit of my stomach. But there’s a curious twist in my gut, too. Because when have I ever been turned down?

I snatch the phone once again and find Astrid’s name at the top.

Me: Heyyyyyy.

Astrid: Did the rose arrive?

Me: Yes, and it’s perfect. Thank you.

Astrid: Great. Now lose my number.

“Rude,” I say, tapping out a quick response.

Me: You don’t mean that.

Astrid: I promise you that I do.

Me: I actually need one more thing, and you’re the only person who can help me with it because you’re brilliant.

Astrid: Stop trying to charm me, Brewer. I know you. Get to the point.

Me: I’m going to ignore that.

Astrid: Whatever works for you. Now, what do you want? I’m organizing a few things for Renn and Blakely’s Australian house, and it’s a major headache.

“I need to send her something when this is over,” I say, then stop and stare at the wall. “Who can I get to send it if she doesn’t send it for me? Such a quandary.”

I shake my head and refocus.

Me: Imagine that you came to my hotel room tonight and were impressed. What does that look like?

Astrid: You would be gone, for starters.

Me: ASTRID, PLEASE HELP ME.

Astrid: Fine. I’m impressed in what capacity? What’s the goal here?

I survey the room.

Typically, I don’t consider what a room looks like before I bring a woman into it. Because who cares? They’re coming for one thing, and that’s not to analyze the hotel’s housekeeping.

But this time, it matters, and I’m not sure why.

Me: The goal is to make it feel more comfortable. Make it smell nice.

Astrid: Tate Brewer, are you trying to be romantic?

Me: This isn’t the kind of woman you take for granted. I gotta up my game. Put in some effort.

Astrid: You mean *I* need to put in some effort.

Me: Both of us. We’re a team now.

Astrid: We are definitely not a team. But, because I am impressed at this turn of events, yes, I will help you. How long do I have?

I check my watch.

Me: Two hours.

Astrid: Damn. I thought Renn’s timelines were bad.

Me: I appreciate you.

Astrid: Don’t try to suck up now. I’ve already agreed.

Me: Thank you, Astrid.

Astrid: I gotta go. I have two hours to make magic happen.

I exhale, feeling a little lighter than before. Although she never makes it easy on me, Astrid is brilliant at accomplishing the impossible.

“Now it’s my turn to make magic happen,” I say, discarding the phone again.

This whole situation has happened so quickly that I haven’t had much time to think about the ramifications if she doesn’t show up—or, worse, if she shows up at the restaurant with someone else.

It wouldn’t be surprising if some other man had locked her in for dinner.

There’s also the tiniest possibility that she’s not into me.

I bite back a laugh. Of course, she’s into me.

Her reasons for turning me down aren’t clear, but I suspect I can get to the bottom of it before the night is over.

And, if I’m lucky, I’ll get under her before morning, too.