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“Go fuck yourself.”

“So no blonde that does stitching via YouTube?”

“Asshole.”

He laughs. “Relax. I’ve never met her.” He pauses. “Although I did look her up.”

My grip tightens on the phone. “You fucking what?”

“I searched her on Instagram. Callie Quinn. Blonde. Green eyes. Owns some design company with her sister.”

“Why the fuck are you looking at her Instagram?”

“Curiosity.”

“Stop being curious.”

Beck laughs. “Jesus Christ, Hot Lips.”

I hang up.

This time, when he calls back, I turn off my phone.

Asshole.

I toss it onto the couch, then stand there and look down at it.

I'm not turning it back on. Absolutely fucking not.

I last four minutes before turning it on.

There's already a message.

BECK: She looks hot tonight.

I stare at the message. My entire body goes still.

ME: You saw her?

BECK: Yup.

ME: Where?

BECK: In town.

My jaw clenches.

ME: What was she doing?

BECK: Talking to some guy. Had her phone out.

Something hot and irrational moves through my chest.

ME: What guy?

BECK: LOL. You’re funny.

ME: Mapquest.