Page 53 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

Which leaves me in some sexy underwear66 in the hallway, feeling foolish.

Not that this exact scenario has happened or anything.

I just have an overactive imagination.

“Harper always has good ideas,” I say. “When I’m stuck with a plot.”

“Is she still writing?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s a shame.”

We pass Harper’s door and now we’re in front of mine.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” I say. “If it was making her miserable.”

“Was it?”

“Not being published certainly was.”

Oliver meets my eyes, and a beat of something passes between us. Old feelings, new.

How are you supposed to tell the difference?

“Your career can’t help.”

I nod slowly. “She thinks I stole her spot.”

“That’s not how it works.”67

“I know that, and she knows that, but…”

“What does she think about you ending the series?”

“I’m not sure she believes me.”

“Why not?”

“I hardly believe it myself. I’m determined, though. By the time Amalfi Made Me Do It is over, Connor will be dead.”

“Amen.”

The door to Connor’s room swings open, and there he is, shirtless and angry. His hair is mussed and—there’s no un-crass way of saying this—he smells like sex.

“So, you’re the one who wants to kill me?” Connor says. “I should’ve known.”

Oliver steps back like I might be contagious. “His room is next to yours?”

Connor smirks. “That’s right, mate. And we’ve got adjoining doors.”

“I didn’t ask for that! And it’s bolted, you asshole.”

“Now, now, Eleanor. You know better than to speak to me like that.”

“Do not talk to her that way.”

“I’ll talk to her as I please. She’s the one plotting my demise, after all.”