Page 47 of Forty, Flirty & Fall Inn

I hang up and find my friends smirking at me.

"Let me guess," Connor says."Inn emergency?"

"The system's playing unauthorized smooth jazz.I'll fix it tonight when I pick up Sage."

"For your business non-date," Grayson adds.

"Exactly."

"Where you'll definitely only discuss professional matters," Alex continues.

"That's the plan."

"While wearing a tux and attending a romantic gala," Connor finishes.

I grab my jacket, ignoring their laughter."I have to go.Actual work to do before tonight."

"Luke," Alex calls as I reach the door."For what it's worth?Mac says La Famiglia's been getting calls about catering the inn.Sage is working her ass off at that place.”

"Your point?"

"My point is that someone who fights that hard for something might be a good person to keep around.Just saying.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and head for my office.

The afternoon crawls by.I try to focus on quarterly reports, but my phone keeps lighting up with texts from Sage:

2:47 PM: “I’m guessing you heard by now.The smooth jazz is making the guests either very relaxed or very homicidal.Hard to tell."

3:15 PM: "Update: Mrs.Henderson is teaching Buttercup to foxtrot.I wish I was joking."

3:42 PM: "The system just switched to what I think is Kenny G's greatest hits.There may be a murder."

4:23 PM: "SOS.Even Buttercup looks disturbed."

I try not to dwell on the fact that I’m hyper-aware of every minute that passes at the clock slowly counts towards five-thirty.

11

DRESS CODE: BILLIONAIRE

SAGE

It’s 4:45 PM on what might be the most surreal Thursday of my life, and I’m standing in my bedroom wearing a towel and one sock, glaring at the emerald cocktail dress I bought three years ago for Derek’s company holiday party.

The one I never wore.

Because Derek dumped me two days before.

The October light pouring through my window turns everything honey-gold, like I’m living inside a movie montage where the emotionally exhausted heroine tries to rally.

Except this isn’t a movie.

It’s real life.With goats.And jazz-induced madness.

“You can do this,” I tell my reflection.“It’s just a gala.With Luke.Who you kissed.And grinded on.And then agreed to a business non-date with.No big deal.”

From downstairs, Kenny G continues his psychological assault.