Page 39 of Hard to Love

“All I was going to say is that we have a professional relationship but I figured it wouldn’t do any good to say it.”

“I have a professional relationship with my agent too, but I don’t look at her like you looked at Stevie tonight.”

Fuck.

Just fuck.

“You’re being an asshole,” I mutter.

“Yep, just like you always are to me. Jesus, man. She’s really got you all twisted up,” he says and I admit nothing because there’s nothing to admit. “Nothing says Finn Sanderson is done with a woman like him admitting he slept with her. So fuck her, already. Get her out of your system so you can move on. She’ll hate you for it, but it will make working with her that much easier.”

“Spoken by a man who clearly has a superior moral compass.” I enter the casino and am assaulted by the unmistakable scents of Vegas. “Aren’t you the same man who thought it was a wise move to date your quarterback’s ex-wife?” When he doesn’t answer, I say, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Touché, my friend. Touché.” He chuckles as I make my way to the elevator in this maze of a casino. “When do I get to see you again?”

“When I’m done with this babysitting job. I think I’m going to work from the West Coast for a while—”

“Your house in San Diego?” he asks, his voice excited. We had way too much fun—er trouble—the last time he visited.

“I think. I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good. Hey, Finn?”

“Hmm?” I enter the elevator.

“Do me a favor. Thank Carson for the matchmaking service, then fuck her and get her out of your system. This much confusion isn’t healthy for a man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter as he hangs up and I’m left walking down the hallway of the hotel, thinking about shit I never thought I’d be thinking about when I woke up this morning.

Like if Carson set this up like it’s a dating game.

Like why I walked away from Stevie when she tried to kiss me, and it has nothing to do with me being her agent and needing to stay professional.

Like why right now all I keep thinking about is the expression on my face in that viral image. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

The problem is whether Carson set up this whole thing or not, it fucking worked.

I’m the one entering the suite and staring at her closed door, wondering if she’s in there and wanting to see her. I’m the one thinking way too much about almost kisses and missed opportunities that first night.

Then again, if I listen to Gabe, if I had slept with her that first night, none of this would even be crossing my mind.

I’d have washed my hands of her in that aspect and moved on. Well at least I moved on.

And kissed goodbye a six-figure package.

“Rough day, sugar?”

I startle from my thoughts about my earlier phone call with Gabe, glance over, and smile politely at the waitress as she cleans empty glasses and bottles off her tray. Her smile is soft and her eyes are kind—a total contrast to the ridiculous feather and jewel outfit the casino makes her wear that fits in with their motif.

“Something like that,” I murmur and take a sip, replaying last night and my phone call to Carson earlier through my head.

You’re disappointing me, son.

“It’s slow. I’ve got time if you need an ear.”

She must think I’m pathetic, sitting here drinking whiskey by myself in the middle of the day as if I were a gambling addict after a rough night of losses.

There’s a cheer that goes up from the other side of the casino and I glance that way before answering. “Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.”