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It looks like the cover of one of those trashy romance novels.
I frown. I haven’t seen the photo, but there’s no way it looks like the cover of a trashy anything. I think I would know. But the bigger issue here is, why does he care?
Chad
I’m sorry but I don’t think we should see each other again.
I’m confused. He’s upset that I’m in the calendar? I run through a list of things I could text back. They range from simple:
K.
To snarky:
Yeah, loafers without socks are a red flag for me, so. . .
To sarcastic:
Thanks for the food poisoning!
To gracious, which is ultimately what I choose:
Emmy
I agree we’d be better off as friends.
Thank you for a nice night.
After that, I put my phone away so I can think pleasant thoughts, mostly about Owen.
And I also wonder how I can get my hands on that photo.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Owen
So far, I’ve intentionally tried two things on The Hopeful Romantic’s list.
And so far, neither has worked out.
First, the flowers. She doesn’t even know they’re from me.
Second, taking care of her when she’s sick. Totally interrupted by the guy from her date.
Chad.
He’s probably a decent guy.
He probably makes sense for Emmy.
I don’t want either of those things to actually be true.
The best thing I can do is keep my head down and go back to my original plan where Emmy is concerned: friends only. I can do that, right?
I’m headed back to the station, on shift, and when I walk in, the captain points at me with two fingers and motions for me to follow him.
He doesn’t look happy.
I walk back to his office, as he sits down at his desk. “Heard you had a little trouble with Lawrence a few days ago.”
