Buzz!
I flip the phone over in my hand, wondering if Phoebe has incredible timing and is going to tell me not to go. But when I see the name flashed up on my screen, my stomach flips excitedly in response.
It’s not Phoebe.
It’s Aiden. We exchanged numbers before we headed to the blackjack table, and apparently, Aiden has decided to use mine.
I quickly read his message:
Waiting for my car at the valet. Should be at the hotel in 20ish. You still good with the location?
Aiden suggested a hotel lobby bar rather than a regular coffee spot, thinking it would most likely be quieter—and less full of people. I text him back:
I think The Lobby Bar is perfect. I’m about to leave my place. I’ve changed out of the Black Swan dress, so you won’t have to pluck any more feathers out of my hair. LOL.
Then I hit send.
Aiden Wentworth is typing …
My stomach does a little happy dance when I see his name flash across my phone again. Finally, his message drops in:
Gotcha. My hairstyling service is no longer needed this evening.
HE IS SO CLEVER, WHY IS THAT SO HOT?
I message back as I make my way toward my front door:
Well, it could be needed if there is some kind of extreme weather condition. Like a hurricane. I’ve restyled my hair since you’ve seen me. It’s tightly pulled back now, and I’m not sure if your styling skills extend to a slicked-back bun held in place with a lot of pins and a stupid amount of product. Trust me, it’s not going to move.
I hit send and let myself out, locking the door behind me. I catch the elevator and press the level for the parking garage. Since it’s coffee, there’s no need to call a rideshare, and I like to drive, so I’m happy to drive myself over to the Hotel Fredrico.
Buzz!
I slide behind the wheel of my car and lock the doors, starting the engine before I look down at my phone.
Aiden has replied:
If we’re facing hurricane-force winds, I think I’d put hairstyling aside for something else.
Hmm, what does that mean?
Aiden Wentworth is typing …
Because I’d be more concerned about protecting you.
OHHHHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY GODDDDDDDD.
Meeting him for coffee has just become a very, very bad idea because if this is what he’s like in texts, if I’m already swooning over him, what am I going to do after an hour’s worth of conversation?
I’m going to have a mad crush on him, that’s what.
And it’s a crush that will never ever develop into anything.
I deflate a bit as reality hits me like a two-by-four smacking me over the head.
But defiance rises to the occasion, not willing to let go of this amazing excitement, this fizzy feeling that Aiden is giving me.
I’m allowed to have tonight. I’m allowed to have these feelings, to have a great conversation with Aiden, and maybe even flirt with him a bit.
