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“I tried numerous times.”
I must’ve been passed out cold not to hear my phone ring. And why didn’t my alarm wake me?
“This is so unlike me,” I say. “I’m always early. Without fail. I can’t believe we’re going to miss our flight because I can’t hold my liquor.”
Beckett steps inside my apartment and closes the door. He places his hands on my shoulders.
“It’s a private jet. The plane leaves when I say so. I can always get the pilot to schedule a later takeoff time, if needs be.”
“Still.” I shake my head. This is so embarrassing. “I blame Phoebe and Oscar for forcing me to party like there’s no tomorrow. Here we are tomorrow, and I’m not so sure it was a great idea. I also blame the overflowing, expensive champagne and the hours of feverish salsa dancing—”
“Who was your dance partner?”
I cock an eyebrow at his slicing tone. “Jealous?”
“It depends who you were dancing with. I might have to rearrange someone’s face.”
“I was with my bestie.”
He stares at me long and hard.
“I swear. I’m telling you the truth. I really was with her.”
“No guys?”
“Just her boyfriend.”
He cocks a brow. “No one else?”
I roll my eyes, but secretly I’m tickled pink. “Beckett, we don’t have time for this. I’m a hot mess and it feels like there’s a construction crew jackhammering in my head.” I bring a hand to my temple.
“Glad to hear you had fun and you weren’t—” he doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he settles for, “It sounds like you had fun.”
Huh? That didn’t make any sense.
“That’s not what you were going to say.”
“Never mind,” he says.
There’s something about the way he’s studying me. I just can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s nothing, but it sure feels like something.
Your system is soaked in booze. So is your brain.
My mind is still fuzzy and my stomach is seesawing as if I was on a yacht in the middle of a raging storm, so I’m not thinking clearly.
“My night of fun and partying is no excuse for my unprofessionalism,” I say.
“Do you still have to pack?”
“God, no. I packed on Sunday. I just have a few items to stuff in my carry-on.”
His eyes widened. “You packed three days in advance?!”
“Always.”
“I always pack last-minute. Case in point, I packed a new set of clothes at one o’clock in the morning when I got back from Nashville. Same when I flew out first thing yesterday morning for the day-long business trip.”
“Don’t let the new look fool you. I’m still a control freak.”
