Page 9 of Hold Me Tight

“Or Rina. They work closely together. Maybe Evelyn’s mentioned something about her relationship with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Foxy.”

With a snort, I glance toward the register.

Crap.

The bank notice.

I should probably tuck the letter back into the envelope and shove it in my purse before Sloane catches sight of it.

But it’s not there.

With a furrowed brow, I check the floor, the shelf under the counter, and the stack of mail for a second time.

Panic flares in my stomach when my search turns up empty.

No one else was behind the counter this morning.

And I know it was there with the stack.

I swallow hard, hating the idea that one of my customers might have picked it up by accident and is now privy to my financial situation.

How mortifying.

If Sloane had found it, she would’ve asked out of concern. She’s one of the most forthright people I’ve ever met.

I nibble my lip as the bell over the door chimes with the arrival of a new customer, and I paste a smile on my face and get back to work.

4

River

All right, I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on making a detour after practice. If I were thinking clearly, I would’ve headed straight back to the penthouse to chill out for a while before tonight’s team meeting. Maybe even watched some film.

The second Evelyn mentioned Beau reaching out to Callie, something in me snapped.

I know exactly who the guy is.

Chicago might be a big city, but it’s also a small one in all the ways that matter.

After a while, you see all the same faces at parties or clubs.

From what I’ve heard about Beau, he enjoys having a beautiful woman on his arm to show off.

Callie isn’t just a pretty face.

She’s smart and hardworking. The last thing she needs is to get tangled up with a playboy who isn’t interested in settling down or being a true partner in every sense of the word.

It’s exactly how I end up at the downtown bistro, seated at a table near the window with an amazing view of the river, a glass of water in front of me as I wait for the owner to make an appearance.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can get for you?” the hostess asks, leaning closer, ample cleavage on display.

My guess is that she’d like me to ask for her number.

But there’s no chance of that happening.

There’s only one woman I’m interested in.

She owns a bakery and has the most adorable two-year-old I’ve ever seen.