I told him to let me know when they were settled at home so I could pop in for a visit sometime, and headed out.
I found Summer in the hall, talking to Flynn. Flirting again, maybe. He didn’t seem to be reciprocating, but he never did. I’d honestly never caught Flynn checking out anyone while he was on duty.
If you asked me, dude took his job just a little too seriously. Summer was giving him that smile of hers, and in response to whatever she’d said, he just nodded.
“Yo, ready to go?” I asked her.
“Sure.” She tossed Flynn a final look. “See ya, Flynn.”
He nodded again.
Then she turned to join me, and his eyes didn’t even drop to her ass. But then again, he knew I was looking.
“You know that’s never happening, right?” I said, as we made our way down the hall.
“Who said I want it to happen?” she said, way too innocently.
“Your tits said it. When they saluted him.”
“I’m just messing with him. It’s fun. You should try it.”
I shook my head. “Not my type. But whatever amuses you, I guess.”
Summer grinned as we stepped through the door to the parking lot. I pulled out my keys and my phone—and found a notification on the screen.
Missed call - Danica (twin #2)
Seriously?
The fuck was this?
I slowed my pace, staring at the notification, and Summer glanced back at me. “Go ahead.” I tossed her my keys. “Gotta make a call.”
“Sure.” She headed over to my truck and I wandered in the other direction, dialing Danica back. Whatever the fuck this was, I needed to put an end to it.
Quick.
“Hi, Ashley,” she said, sounding a little breathless, picking up after half a ring. “Uh, Mr. Player—”
“You called?”
“Yes. Thank you for getting back to me. I didn’t leave a voicemail, because who does that anymore, right? I thought I’d try you again later, see if I could catch you at a good time. Is this a good time?”
“What’s up?”
“Well, I was just wondering if you’d decided on some dates that could work for you. You know, for the consultation. Like I mentioned, uh, last night… my schedule is really flexible. I’m in and out of the office all day, so whatever works for you, I can probably make it work.”
“Right. Look, I won’t—”
“I mean, except for Sunday. I don’t work Sundays. It’s not God’s day or anything. I just need a me day, you know? But I swear, any other day. Well, except this Saturday, actually. Saturdays are dicey, too. You know, family time.”
The fuck?
Was she trying to back out of the consultation—that I didn’t even want—now?
“Oh, and tomorrow afternoon…” she went on, “I’ve picked up a lunch meeting now, that I can’t get out of. And, uh, after that, I do this candle making workshop on Friday afternoons…”
Jesus. This chick was either adorable… or a total fucking weirdo.
