“Can you drive?”
“I’ve barely touched my drink. So here’s the deal. You text him and find out where he is. Play it cool though. Don’t be desperate or stalkery. I’ll close out the tab and drive you where you need to go.”
“What about the bartender?”
“Oh, I’m fucking him,” Fox said. “Whatever happens, I’m going to be back here by two a.m. and dropping to my knees, so donotfuck this up.”
Nerves lit up like a Christmas tree. Flutters broke out. Ah god, I suddenly felt sick.
What if Jamie was already in bed with this date? What if he wasn’t? I didn’t know which scenario was more terrifying.
It was tempting to order another drink and bury my head in the sand, but if there was even the slightest chance that this friendship was more than platonic, didn’t I owe it to both of us to take a risk?
I just hoped it didn’t blow up in my face.
CHAPTER 20
Jamie
My phone buzzedwith a series of texts, sounding like an angry bee as it vibrated across my kitchen counter.
“What the heck?” I muttered.
Maverick set down his wineglass and leaned forward to peek at the screen, the nosy bastard. “Ooh, maybe your date is heartbroken you canceled on him. He’s begging you to reconsider!”
“Funny,” I said, picking up the phone to scan the texts.
Silas snickered. “Or maybe Hank has woken from an oblivious straight slumber and?—”
“Oh my god,” I murmured. “Hank has lost his mind.”
“What?” my friends both asked at the same time.
I stared at them, eyes wide. “I missed some earlier texts. He must have sent them when I was in the bathroom, and now…”
Lady and Tramp jumped up, ears pricked toward the door a second before a knock thudded through the house.
“He’s here!” I jumped off my stool, did a circle, stared down at my pajama pants covered in 101 Dalmatians. “Do I change?”
“Is he here to sweep you off your feet like a princess?” Silas challenged.
I shook my head. “I seriously doubt that. He just asked where I was, said he’d been out with his cousin and realized he forgot to tell me something. He probably wants to talk dog festival.”
“Then I’d say your attire is appropriate,” Silas said dryly. “Don’t dress for his sake.”
“He’s right,” Maverick added. “You have to stop thinking of Hank as boyfriend material, right? A good first step is to stop caring what he thinks.”
Thud-Thud-Thud.
“Jamie?” Hank’s deep voice boomed through the door. “Are you in there? Am I too late?”
I jumped and rushed across the room, raising my voice to be heard over my dogs’ excited barking. “Coming!”
I shooed the dogs back enough to get the door open. Hank stood on my porch, hair standing up in odd tufts, eyes wild.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I thought I might be too late, that maybe?—”
