The Duet(15)

Wow. If I could have reached through the phone and stomped on his foot, I would have. I’d never done that to anyone and you know, I usually didn’t condone violence, but this guy pushed every one of my buttons.

“Do you have any friends?” I blurted, genuinely curious if there was anyone on earth that enjoyed this man’s presence.

“Plenty. Do you want to know why I’m friends with them?” he responded.

“Yes.” I was so interested in this man’s personal life. I was even tempted to break my Internet rule, just to learn more about him.

“They don’t call and wake me up at 3:00 A.M.”

I rolled my eyes and took a long sip of wine. Now he was being dramatic. It wasn’t even close to 3:00 A.M. My eyes flew open when it hit me—he wasn’t in LA. Summer had told me he was in New York for some press thing and that’s why we were flying to Montana individually.

Wow. I could not win with this guy.

“Oh my God, seriously. I’m sorry,” I said this with an awkward laugh I was helpless to contain. But it was either that or tears, and I had a feeling Jason would respond even worse if I started to cry.

“You’ve already said that,” he replied and for the first time I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well, I really mean it.”

He grunted. “I’ll be sure to tell my trainer that when he comes knocking on my door in two hours.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I laughed. I know I shouldn’t have, but I’d never had anyone in life literally see my bad side from every angle. No wonder he hated me so much. I would have hated me, too.

“Good night, Jason.”

“Please don’t call me again at night. Or better yet, just don’t call me. I’ll see you in Montana in a few days.”

He hung up and I leaned forward onto my kitchen island, letting my forehead rest against the cold marble. It’s not that I was someone that had to have the admiration of everyone around me. I just knew that I wasn’t a half-bad human being. I mean, sure, sometimes I stole soda at restaurants when I told them I was only getting water. And occasionally, I lied to my dentist about flossing. Sue me.

But I held doors open for people behind me and always let cars in when lanes were merging. So, I needed Jason to know that. I needed him to know I was a door-holding Good Samaritan.

I needed to win over Jason Monroe, but I had no clue where to start.





Chapter Six





“What if they have Ebola in Montana?”

I put down my magazine and glanced up at Cammie. Her dark brown eyes were wide with worry and for a second, I think she actually thought I’d get the Ebola virus.

“They don’t.”

That didn’t calm her nerves. She started pacing through my living room, back and forth. Back and forth.

“What if you get a tape worm from eating something bad and then you have to have surgery to get it out of you because it’s like the size of a snake?”

“Do they really get that big?” I asked, genuinely concerned about why I hadn’t heard about this sooner.

“In Montana? Probably,” she said, throwing her hands into the air for emphasis.

I started laughing at her dramatic flair. It was time to rein her in before she got too carried away. I tossed my magazine onto my coffee table and stood up to give her a hug.

“All right, psycho. I’ll be okay. I won’t be getting any tape worms or random viruses,” I said, reassuringly rubbing her long brown hair. It felt good to console her; it kept me from thinking about the loneliness that would surely sink in as soon as I stepped onto the plane.

“And you’re sure you want to leave me for a month? Just abandon me in LA to fend for myself? Who will clutch me in their bosom when you’re gone?” I glanced down to see that she wasn’t even kidding, I did have her face pretty much smashed into my boobs. Whoops.

“Oh! That reminds me. I had coffee the other day with Grayson, remember? And I talked to him about you.”

Her eyes flew up to mine, as she pulled out of my arms. “What, why?”

“Uh, because you’re both architects. Well, you’re about to be one. I wanted him to give you some advice.”

She stared up at the ceiling as if I was the biggest nag in the world. “No. I don’t need his help.”

I was seriously over her “I can do everything on my own” rant. It wouldn’t kill her to get some advice. “Well he owns one of the biggest firms in LA, and he told me to tell you to call him,” I explained, pulling out a piece of paper from my kitchen junk drawer so I could write his number down for her.

“He did?” she asked with a note of curiosity.