Page 9 of Wicked Heat

“There will be,” he assures me with so much confidence that I’m glad he’s hijacking the interview, even though I always sound like a tongue-tied fool when I’m around him.

“I thought you and I could stay behind after the interview,” he adds. “Have a coffee. Catch up.”

My insides go cold, because I know perfectly well that catch up really means finally hear why you ghosted me when everything seemed to be going so well.

To be honest, I’d pretty much decided that he’d let that go. It’s been months since I bailed on him at the airport Hilton, and while it’s true that he hasn’t been around much, when we have crossed paths, he hasn’t cornered me for an explanation.

Apparently, times are changing.

That, however, is the least of my problems.

“Bree?”

Once again, I tighten my hands around the steering wheel, but manage to tilt my head so I’m looking right at him. “It’s a moot point,” I say. “This whole conversation. I won’t be at the interview tomorrow. I have to cancel.”

“Do you?”

I smile, all sunshine and innocence. “One of those last-minute conflicts.”

“Lucky you.” His eyes linger on mine a second too long. “But too bad for me.”

I shrug, making a mental note to call and leave a message about canceling as soon I get to the house. Because even without adding Ash to the mix, after today’s unexpected dose of hell, there is no way I’m sitting down with that viper again.

I look pointedly to where his hands are still on my open window frame. “I need to get going.”

“I still think we should grab a coffee. After all, you owe me.”

I stiffen. “Owe you?” There’s an edge to my voice. If he’s talking about the hotel….

“Leaving me to face that woman alone? Yeah. I mean, I thought we were friends.”

My entire body relaxes. Apparently, he’s not going to press me about standing him up. Not now, anyway.

“It’s a huge debt,” he continues, “but I’d be willing to negotiate down to one coffee and half an hour.”

The tiny smile that touches my lips feels pretty good, and that’s almost enough to make me agree. Because right then I want to be with someone who can make me laugh. Who can make me forget the nightmare I’ve tumbled into.

Except I can’t forget it.

Not ever.

And I sure as hell can’t tell Ashton Stone—Anne’s uncle—anything about what’s going on.

“Bree?”

“I really have to go.” I don’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m meeting someone.” Since Aria’s probably home by now, that’s technically not a lie.

He studies my face with an intensity that makes me fear he can read my thoughts. Then his expression seems to clear, and he lifts one shoulder. “Right. Well, Okay.”

He looks so dejected, I almost change my mind. It’s not an expression I expect on the face of a guy like Ash. He—like his father—is a certified Master of the Universe. The kind of guy who knows what he wants, goes after it, and succeeds. The kind of guy who always comes out on top.

Always.

Except with me.

I sit up a little straighter. Suddenly, I’m not so worried about his dejected expression. Maybe it makes me small, but considering all the shit that’s happened to me in the last hour, I’m feeling pretty good about having the upper hand.

His brow furrows as he studies my face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”