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The only tickets left remaining for tomorrow night were between eight and eleven. Well...not ideal, but I could make it work.
My phone buzzed, and a text message appeared from an unknown number.
Unknown Number:We’re waiting in the lobby.
Me:Why? Who? Which lobby?
Unknown Number:For the morning show. The whole team. Our hotel.
Well, obviously this referred to Rhett’s makeup.
Me:We’re meeting at 5:00.
Unknown Number:4:00 and we’re waiting.
It was now 4:17. I flew into a panic. Crap. “Adalyn! Up! We’re late.”
She moaned.
“Seriously. Everyone is waiting downstairs for us.”
We both got ready faster than either of us had probably ever had to do before and rushed down to the lobby. Adalyn spent the elevator ride furiously typing on her phone and frustrated that her reception was lacking.
“How did you know?” she asked, clearly stressed. “I totally thought we were meeting at five. It’s myjobto know that.”
“Someone on the team texted me. I don’t know who. It’s not a number I have.” Which was unsurprising, since I only had Bridget’s and Adalyn’s numbers. “My guess is Chad or Jax.”
“Probably not,” she said absently. “Why wouldn’t Bridget do it?”
“Because she’s too busy managing Rhett’s life.” Managing, controlling, potato-potahto.
“Let me see the number.”
I shifted my makeup case to the other hand and gave her my phone, open to the text thread.
She looked at it, and her eyebrows hiked up. Then her gaze cut to me appraisingly. “That’s wild. He doesn’t ever give his number out.”
“Who?” My bet was on Jax. He had that silent, deep type down with a hint of terrifying ogre.
“Rhett.”
The elevator doors opened, and Adalyn hurried out. I stayed behind, momentarily stunned. She looked over her shoulder, giving me a look that screamed,Are you coming?I hurried after her.
First Uno, then the lobster feast for one that he invited me to join, and now he was texting me. This man was either entirely bored or falling helplessly in love with me. I had a sinking suspicion it was the former. I needed to work harder.
We climbed into the back row of the black, tinted SUV. Bridget’s attention was riveted to her phone, and Rhett made no indication at all that he’d been that morning’s mystery texter. What was I expecting, though? That he would turn around in his seat and wave? He was sitting in the row ahead of me but on the other side of the car, making his side profile easily visible.
The car was silent while we traveled down Manhattan. Probably due in equal parts to the early hour and Bridget’s irritation for not leaving the hotel on time. She should be recruited by the marines. I didn’t know anyone else who ran such a tight schedule.
I opened my phone and located Rhett’s number. I was adding his contact information to my phone when another text rolled in.
Rhett:Glad you could finally join us.
Me:I’m sorry, but who is this?
A small smile flitted over his lips, but he didn’t look at me. I kind of liked that we had a secret between us. Something Bridget didn’t know.
Rhett:Just your friendly neighborhood fireman.
