“Yeah. I am.” I pause. “For the conference?”
Without blinking, she nods. “At least I’ll see one familiar face there. Hopefully, he’ll take me out to dinner tomorrow?”
I chuckle. “We’ll have to see if that’s even possible. I don’t know if my manager will expect us to go out to dinner with our colleagues—I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do the next few days I’m here.”
“Oh. Same,” she says with a quiet laugh. “Maybe you can provide an assist and help me butter up my coworker.”
“Butter up the Carson guy?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t like me,” she says. “But I don’t want to spend the entire conference fighting with him. I want things to be super pleasant between us, or else I might commit a felony.”
“Why not?” I lift a shoulder. “If we run into each other, I’ll help you with Carson.”
“And I can help you with… Bambi,” she says, “who you believe is a bot because of her ridiculous name.”
“It’s also where she’s from,” I say. “Imagine if you found out your coworker,Winnie, is from the Hundred Acre Wood.”
“Okay, you’re losing me,” she says. “Where exactly isBambifrom? I can’t exactly imagine your coworker living in the middle of the woods.”
I look forward and scrub my hand down the line of my jaw. “Malibu—if that’ll clue you in on what her name is.”
Glancing sideways, my grin slowly wipes off of my face when she visibly tenses beside me.
“Bambi,” she grits out, “is so much worse thanBarbie, Carter.”
7
BARBIE
TUESDAY, JULY 15TH
“This is exactlywhy we can’t go with that cover sheet,” he gripes, punctuating his words with a long-suffering sigh. If I weren’t too busy glaring daggers at him, I’d be looking up the penalties for voluntary manslaughter.
I turn to peer out the window, just so I don’t have to discover if the death penalty is one of them when I murder him with my bare hands. We’ve already spent the rest of our flights rehashing the same arguments from work. I need a minute to step back, gather my wits, and freak out an appropriate amount over the fact that the hot guy on the plane isnota conspiracy theorist, he’s worse. He’sCarter.
The guy who’s spent two years arguing with me over spreadsheets and SOPs as if his life depended on it is the very same person whose future three kids’ names have already been picked out by yours truly.
Of course, the first guy I’ve felt a spark of attraction toward in a long while is the same man who infuriates me to no end. Although people have said evil is attractive. And boy howdy, is he.
I swallow hard, wishing that my feelings for him would sort themselves out andstopthinking of him as anything other than the enemy. He literally accused me of being a freaking bot.
I spent days agonizing over how I was going to be nice to a guy who thinks I’m composed of mechanical parts and run on batteries.
Heaving out a muted sigh, I’m beyond relieved when the cab pulls over to the curb and comes to a stop in front of the hotel. I want nothing more than to check into our suite and make my great escape for the night after spending half of a day with him already.
Like every building and landmark we’ve driven past, the area is extremely crowded.
Pedestrians meander along the cobblestone sidewalk. Families abruptly halt to snap pictures. Tourists trickle in and out of the lobby while they head toward the historic downtown and boardwalk area.
I don’t have the chance to reach for my wallet when Carter hands the driver a couple of twenties and hops out of the vehicle.
Inside the lobby, the place is jam-packed with people. Way too many people that it’s kind of overwhelming. My brows pinch together; my skin prickles. I can feel the air whooshing from my lungs while my legs seem to have forgotten how to move.
“Is this the face you make every time you’re on a call with me?” he utters in a complete deadpan, and I almost break into laughter.Almost.
“Stop it,” I say, redirecting my attention to the reception desk. There’s a long line of people. “You cannot be funny right now.”
He quietly chuckles. It’s a dry sound, but it sends a cascade of goosebumps down my spine, nevertheless. “I can’t help it. It just comes naturally.”
