“She has a date,” Larkin blurts, clearly enjoying herself. “Tomorrow night.”
The shock is evident on Morri’s face. “Stop. You’re kidding. With whom?”
“Sam,” Larkin says, flashing a grin that promises nothing good.
Morri clutches his chest. “Oh, he’s one of my favorite people. I love hanging out with him at Chesty’s.”
“You hang out at Chesty’s?” I ask in awe.
I’m given a chastising look. Morri waves his hand down his stylish frame. “I may look like I belong at the Met Gala, but honestly… I love hanging with riffraff, and Chesty’s is full of that type.”
“Then you’ll have to let me buy you a beer,” I say, all neighborly.
Morri’s face scrunches. “Eww… I don’t drink beer. It’s very bloating. But I’ll let you buy me a White Claw.”
“Deal,” I say.
“So, let’s talk more about Sam. The man’s hotter than July asphalt in Carolina,” Morri declares. “I’m officially invested in this romance. Do you need a stylist? Emotional support gay? I can do both.”
I guffaw so hard I nearly spill my coffee again. “I think I’ve got it covered, but I’ll keepyour number handy.”
“Do,” he says solemnly. “And keep your expectations high. Nothing good ever started with low expectations. Especially when you two fall into bed. You make sure that man takes care of you.”
“Morri!” Larkin yelps, looking to the older woman who heard every bit of it but is pretending not to.
He smirks. “What? I’m just sharing wisdom I’ve learned from all my failed relationships.”
I’ve fully dissolved into giggles and Morri grins back at me with a wink. We chat about New York City where he was born and raised, and that leads into talk about DC.
Morri finishes his cupcake, stands and straightens his scarf. “As much as I’d love to stay and stir the pot, I have an engagement this evening. Floyd’s taking me to a drag show in Raleigh.”
“I still can’t get over Floyd going to drag shows with you,” I say.
“Oh yes,” Morri says as he saunters to the door. “He’s become one of my dearest friends.”
Larkin’s shaking her head, still smiling. “Don’t you two cause trouble.”
“We are trouble,” Morri says cheerfully. Then, turning to me, he adds with a conspiratorial wink, “It was great seeing you, Penny. I’ll expect updates. Pictures, preferably.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Attagirl.”
With that, he sweeps out the door, trailing cologne and leaving behind a silence that somehow feels brighter for having been filled with him.
My eyes meet Larkin’s. “He is something else.”
“That he is,” she says, clearly entertained.
CHAPTER 9
Sam
As soon asDerek slid into the passenger seat of my truck at the airport, I knew this day would test every ounce of my patience.
He took one look around the cab—at the dust on the dashboard, the cracked leather seats, the faint coffee stain on the cup holder—and wrinkled his nose.
His morning flight from LaGuardia landed right on time and looked more like a fashion model than literary agent as he exited the airport—dark jeans, camel jacket and white sneakers so clean they’ve never met a puddle.
