Page 53 of Ten Day Affair

The conversation shifts. It's lighter, easier.

Arden tells a story about a bachelorette weekend gone rogue in Miami. Sam laughs and seems more relaxed now. The tension that was obvious when I walked up is finally unclenching from her posture.

She tucks her feet up on the chair, bare toes peeking from beneath her loose pajama pants, glass cradled against her chest like armor and comfort in one.

The waves roll in below us, steady and soft. The kind of rhythm that lulls you into thinking maybe everything’s fine after all.

“Alright,” Arden says, setting down her empty glass.

"Oh, shit," Sam says, like she's bracing for her friend to embarrass her.

“Tomorrow night, there’s a Dave Matthews Band cover playing at Swifty’s. We’re doing it. What do y’all say?” Arden looks at me.

I cock my head and look to see how Sam reacts. She runs a hand through her hair but doesn't say anything.

“I already told Sam I’m dragging her along since she gets off at a decent hour. But it’d be fun if you came too, Cole.”

Sam raises a brow. “I haven't committed, yet, Missy. I need to make sure I'm not on the brink of death. This week has been brutal.”

Arden shrugs. “Unfortunately, you don't have a choice. I need a wingman, plus, you need more music in your life.”

Then, to me, “Cole, are you around tomorrow? I’ve heard this band before, and they’re amazing.”

Her tone stays light, but her gaze flicks between us like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“I’m still around,” I say. “I'd love that. Count me in. What time are you going so I can make sure I'm done with work?”

"It's early, which is nice. I think he starts at seven. Sam, didn't you say you're done early tomorrow, at five?"

"Yes, but."

"No 'buts.' How about we meet at 6:30? That will give you enough time to come home and clean up andchange. No scrubs allowed. Does that work for you, Cole?"

"Yeah, I can get myself done by then."

Sam rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t argue.

My phone comes alive on the table beside me. I glance at the screen and see Angela's name.

I rise, slipping the phone into my palm. “That’s my assistant. I need to grab this, so I’ll let you two finish out the night without your nosy neighbor crashing girl's night.”

Neither of them stands, which I appreciate. No need to overdo the goodbye.

“Thanks for letting me crash your night. It was a nice change. Looking forward to the band.”

Sam meets my eyes, and for a second, everything quiets. There’s something there. It's unspoken, but not uncertain. The current between us hasn’t gone anywhere.

Arden lifts her glass. “Anytime, neighbor.”

I nod once. “Swifty’s, right?”

“Yeppers,” Arden says. “Hammon Avenue.”

“Cool. Thanks again for the invite. I’ll see you both there.”

I head down the steps, my empty glass in hand, not bothering to check the message.

It wasn’t urgent.