“Hey,” I greet, setting my now empty bowl on the coffee table.
“Did you text him? Wait, no, please tell me you called him?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the p.
“Emmmmaaaa.” She drags out my name. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Not badger me to call him?” I offer up the suggestion, knowing damn well she’s not going to take it.
“Aubreeeeyyy,” I mock her.
“Stop it.” She laughs. “I’m being serious. You could be missing out on something amazing.”
“I want more than just amazing sex, Aubs.”
“Who said anything about sex?” I can hear the amusement in her voice.
Damn it. “You know what I mean?”
“Actually, I do. I have my own cocky bastard, and let me tell you—” She starts, but I stop her.
“No. Just no. I love you, but the last time you told me about you and Chance, I couldn’t look at him for a week. Keep that shit locked up, Bateman,” I tease.
“Oh, whatever.” She giggles. “Just text him. Tell him thank you.”
“No. Then he’ll have my number, and he obviously doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no. Why would I give him full access to me all the time? Not happening.”
“Chicken,” she goads.
“Cluck cluck,” I reply, barely able to contain my own laughter. “Look, he’s going to get the hint eventually. If I text him, that opens up for a conversation that doesn’t need to happen. We’ve said what needs to be said. He asked. I said no. End of story.”
“Chance is still at the field. When he gets home, I’m going to get the dirt on Mr. Quarterback. I’ll have a full report for you tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s not going to change my mind.” I refuse to admit learning more about him, straight from the source, or at least from someone who actually knows him is appealing.
“Hey, what happened to keeping an open mind?”
“Did I agree to that?” I ask, pretending to be confused.
“What’s that? You want to know all the things? Done. I’ll get Chance on the job.”
I don’t argue with her. I know she’s going to ask Chance regardless. “Goodnight, Aubrey,” I sing into the phone.
“Not so fast, missy.”
“Ugh,” I groan.
“Send me a picture of the flowers. Where did you put them? In the living room?”
“No. I left them at the shelter.”
“What? Why on earth would you do that? They’re beautiful.”
“We can enjoy them at the office.”
“Emma, they’re yours. You should be enjoying them at your place.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, when we can both enjoy the flowers.”
She sighs heavily, as if I’m her greatest disappointment. “Bye, Em.” She hangs up, and I can imagine her rushing Chance as soon as he walks through the door, ambushing him for details about Landon. I should be worried because she can talk that man into anything. Case and point, their pet goat, Pixy. Some of the stories she’s told me about how Pixy came about are hilarious. I’ve never known anyone to have a pet goat, especially one that stays in the house, but somehow, he fits them.
Cleaning up my mess, I wash the few dishes and lock up. I’m just ready for this very long day to be over. Climbing into bed, I stare up at the shadows on the ceiling. The house is quiet, except for the whirl of the small fan I keep on the nightstand. There’s nothing else to distract me from my thoughts. Thoughts that are consumed with a little white envelope sitting in the bottom of my small trash can. I can’t help but wonder what his motivation is. It has to be the chase. I can’t for the life of me figure out what else it could be. Glancing at the clock, over an hour has passed. I need to get some sleep. Slinging the covers off, I stomp to the trash can and under the glow of the moonlight, retrieve the small envelope. Opening the top dresser drawer, I toss it in and quickly close it back. There. Now, if by chance I change my mind at any time, I’ll have no regrets that I tossed his number. I climb back into bed, and can finally feel myself relax. As I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but think that Aubrey is going to have a field day with this new information.
Chapter 4
Landon
It’s been three days since I sent her flowers. Three days of checking my phone obsessively. She’s not going to call, I know that, but I had hoped.
I should wash my hands of the situation and just move on, but something tells me not to give up. Something deep in my gut, and I always trust my gut. Sure, it’s probably just the nagging feeling that she’s the first to turn me down, but it feels like something… more. Whatever it is, it’s driving me crazy.