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“You’ll be fine. She’ll be more pissed if you leave without saying goodbye,” Adam said.
She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “See ya later, Decate.” She glanced my way but didn’t say anything.
Once she was gone Adam gave me a funny look. “Dude, it was colder than the Arctic here. What gives?”
“I don’t know what you're talking about,” I hedged, peeling the label from my beer bottle.
“I thought nothing was going on between you two,” Adam prodded.
“There isn’t.”
“Then why did she look at you like something on the bottom of her shoe? I know Murphy when she’s taken a dislike to someone. And she seems to have taken a dislike to you. So, what did you do to her?” Adam frowned.
“Why do you automatically assume I did something? Have you ever known me to do anything to anyone?” I countered defensively.
Adam thought about that. “No actually. So, what’s going on?”
I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.”
He looked at me as if he didn’t believe me. “Skylar is one of my best friends, Rob. So are you. I don’t want to have to take sides if you two have some war brewing. I’ve done that with Wyatt and Lena. It wasn’t fun. I’m not in the mood to do it again.”
“There’s no war brewing, Adam,” I promised him.
Because there wasn’t.
I wanted Skylar Murphy but couldn’t have her.
Skylar wanted nothing to do with me, which was just as well.
That was the end of the story.
Or so I thought.
Chapter Five
Skylar
Working for yourself comes with some amazing privileges. I could wake up, drink my coffee, and then dress in my favorite pair of sweatpants and a faded band t-shirt. Working for yourself also comes with some major drawbacks. The lack of conversation like you’d have in an office surrounded by other people can lead to an increase in “crazy cat lady” behavior. Or in my case, “crazy dog lady.”
I had taken to walking around the house and having detailed conversations with Edgar, who listened by cocking his head and looking adorable. The problem was he couldn’t really provide me any feedback when I was particularly stuck on a concept, which was the current situation.
“I don’t know, Edgar. The lines don’t look sharp enough. I’m not sure this works in the market they’re targeting.” I chewed on the end of my pen, squinting at the screen, willing the creativity to come to me. I was feeling braindead today. I hadn’t left the house since the past weekend’s dinner at Meg and Adam’s, and I was starting to feel the isolation.
Which was why I practically jumped out of my seat and ran for the front door when the doorbell rang. Not caring that my favorite pair of sweatpants had tiny, pin prick holes in the crotch, I dashed to the door, threw it open with a gusto that startled the person on the other side.
Whitney put a hand to her chest like a southern belle with the vapors. “Good god, Sky, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Whitney, I’m so happy to see you!” I said with a little more enthusiasm than she was used to hearing from me.
She cocked her head to the side in a dead ringer imitation of my dog and narrowed her eyes. “Are you okay? Should I be worried? When has Skylar Murphy ever been happy to see anyone?”
Fair point.
Edgar poked his head around my side, eager to see our visitor. Whitney came prepared for my behemoth of an animal and fished a treat out of her purse and tossed it to him. He caught it midair. “Well done, Edgar.” She clapped her hands.
“Come on in.” I opened the door wider for her and she walked into my entryway. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”
“As you know, Kyle’s birthday is a few weeks—”
“Like the man will let any of us forget it,” I muttered, leading her into the kitchen where I put on a pot of coffee. Webber had been dropping not-so-subtle hints about his upcoming thirtieth birthday for the last six months. And people said women were divas.
“Right?” Whitney laughed, sitting down at the table. “Well, I’m struggling with what to get him. I had some professional pictures taken of Katie and they turned out wonderfully. But I need to get him a few other things. And the man is horrible to shop for. Mostly because if he wants something, he goes out and buys it. Makes it a little difficult for everyone else when holidays come around.”
“He really is a pain in the ass.” I brought the mugs over to the table and sat down. “But I’m not sure how I can help you. I plan to give him a kick in the ass for his present,” I joked.
