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“Oh,” Dorothy gasped. “A slumber party.” She wiggled her eyebrows and flopped down in her chair.
“Are you making fun of me?”
She quirked her eyebrow. “If I am, it’s not intentional.”
“You didn’t hear me tell him we could have a sleepover?”
“Imogen,” she laughed. “You and I are one and the same. I only heard the last couple of seconds of your conversation.”
“Why am I like this?” I moaned. “I’m normally quiet and professional, but when I get around that man, I can’t keep my mouth shut and say the first thing that comes to mind. I’m shocked I haven’t blurted out how hot he is.”
“Me, too,” Dorothy laughed. “That would have been the first thing I told him if I were you. But it’s probably good you’re not quiet and professional around him, Imogen. He’s not a prospective client. He’s a man who has more than friendly feelings toward you.”
“No,” I called. “Please, do not do this to me. I cannot go on a trip to San Diego with this man when you keep telling me he has the hots for me. That will be all I think about, and I won’t be of any help.”
“Well, there is one way to get over that.”
“I don’t think I want to hear this.” Whatever Dorothy had to say, I knew it was not going to help me.
Dorothy smiled devilishly. “Kiss him.”
“What?” I squawked. “How is that going to help me?” That was the last thing I needed to do. “Kiss him, so then he doesn’t kiss me back, and things are even more awkward between us?”
She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. “He’ll kiss you back, Imogen.”
“And then what do I do?” I demanded. “I haven’t been kissed or kissed back in years, Dorothy. He’ll probably think I kiss like a dead fish.”
Dorothy puckered her lips like a fish and stuck her hands by her neck like fins. “He might be into dead fish.”
“You are no help,” I laughed. I closed my planner and tossed it at her.
She caught it midair and laughed. “Stop stressing over this man, Imogen. A blind man could see he is into you, so just let it happen. The man has game, so just let him game you.”
“Or play me,” I muttered. “He could just be interested in me, so I help him get off the hook for killing Kent.”
“Now you are way wrong. If that were what he was doing, then his whole club would have to be in on it, too.” She tossed my planner on her desk. “Which they are not doing because those women would not even let Mace think about messing with your feelings.”
“Ahh,” I groaned. “I need to stop thinking about this, Dorothy. I have so many other things to worry about, and whether or not Mace likes me is not one of them.” I combed my fingers through my hair and tried to clear my head. “I need to call my grandma to let her know I’ll be in town tomorrow and pack my bags.”
“Bag,” Dorothy corrected. “And you better make it a small one.”
“What? Why?”
“Oh, Imogen,” she laughed. “You need to pack a small bag because you’ll be on a motorcycle.”
“No,” I laughed.
“Yes,” she argued. “Text him. I bet you fifty dollars you guys are going on his bike.”
I rolled my eyes and snatched my phone off of my desk. “There is no way we are taking his bike. How am I supposed to bring anything with us?” I pulled up Mace’s number and sent off a text.
How are we getting to San Diego?
“You got those fifty dollars ready for me?” Dorothy sang. “Because you are wrong, girlfriend.”
Bike
Shit.Do you think that is a good idea? It’s over seven hours.
