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She seemed unsure of whether or not to let him in. Her hand had a death grip on the doorframe.
“Can I come in? It’ll only take a second.” He didn’t want to go into the significance of the tags, but if it was the only way to get them back he would.
She stepped back. “Sure. I’ll help you. What did you leave? I haven’t seen anything.”
He immediately walked to the couch. It was covered in spreadsheets and graphs. “I guess you’re not working on the Dewey decimal system?” He chuckled as she rushed to stack the papers together.
“No, it’s for work. Real work.”
With the charts out of the way he shoved his hand between the cushions. Nothing.
“What did you forget?” She studied him while he searched.
“My tags.” He reached between the last cushions.
“Tags?” She adjusted her glasses. “Oh, that necklace you had on?”
He nodded. “Yes. That.”
He watched as she walked to the back of the couch and crouched on all fours, disappearing behind the sofa. She hopped up with the tags clutched in her hand. “Here they are.”
“Thanks.” He took two steps to the other side of the couch and reached for the silver chain. He had never been so happy to see them before.
Before she handed them to Bolt she flipped the metal over in her hand. “Is your name Riggs? Are these military tags?”
He stopped. “No. Riggs was my friend. The other one is mine.”
“Hardcastle?” She raised her eyebrows.
He opened his palm for her to drop them into his hand. “Yep. You caught me. I’m Ben Hardcastle.” He looped the tags over his head and threaded them under his T-shirt before extending his hand. Introductions seemed strange at this point. He had spent an entire night naked with this woman.
She might have wanted to hold back on the smile, but he saw it form on the corners of her mouth. “I’m Skye Stephens.” She chewed on her bottom lip.
“Skye? I like it. Fitting for a librarian.” He winked, liking the way it made her blush.
“I think we both know I’m not a librarian.” She walked to the other side of the couch. “I work for an ad agency. That’s what all of this stuff is.” She pointed to the work stacked on the coffee table.
“Working on Saturday night? That’s no fun.”
She scoffed. “Fun? I don’t even know what that is anymore.”
He was tempted to disagree with her. Last night she had been all kinds of fun. Bolt thought for a second. Hollywood would either kill him or grill him, but for some reason he couldn’t walk out with only his tags. “Come with me to PB. Let’s
go get a beer.”
Skye eyed him. “Beer?”
“Please tell me you aren’t one of those girls who only drinks wine.” With her hair in that bun and those glasses, she looked like a strict coffee drinker.
“I don’t even know what that means, but of course I can drink a beer.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Ok, then drink one with me. Come on. Let’s go.” His head leaned toward the door.
She looked at her yoga pants and tank top. “I can’t go out like this. Besides, I’m working.”
Remnants of this morning were starting to surface, but he didn’t feel like retreating this time. He wanted her to go get a drink with him, not hide out in her shell. “You’ve got ten minutes.” He settled on the couch.
“What are you doing?” Her hands flew to her hips.
