Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(64)

I refused to pay attention to the brick forming in my stomach that felt a lot like guilt. As if I'd done something wrong. "What else did he say? He must have said something else for you to think that."

"He didn't. But I also know you, mi amor."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think something happened between you two. And I think you got scared. Things maybe happening too fast?"

"That's not fair. And not true! I'm not the one with the intimacy problem."

Armand took a calm sip from his cup. "If you say so."

"Ugh!" I threw my hands up. "That's not fair. You don't know what happened."

"You could tell me."

I flounced across the room and landed on the other end of the futon. "I'd rather not. And I'm not even sure if I can explain it."

"Okay. So we don't talk about it. Fine."

"Good," I said. But I went and plugged in Trystan's phone. I'd have to face him sooner or later and return his phone. "So what's the plan tonight? Oh no!"

"What?"

"I have nothing to wear. As it is I'm a day past my three-day travel wardrobe." Getting anything from my house was out of the question. "Do we have time for me to throw everything in your washer and dryer? I'll wear jeans and my black cami."

"We'll coordinate." Armand gestured down his body.

I had a quick flashback to one night a year ago when we'd all gone clubbing and crashed here because my place was rented. "Did Annie ever pick up her dress?" It wasn’t like she'd have been able to wear it while pregnant.

Armand got up and opened the laundry cupboard doors. Hanging on the inside of the right hand door was a little black dress. "I can't tell you how many questions I get about this thing when people stay over. I'm almost sad to let you wear it."

I laughed. "I can give it back when I'm done."

"See that you do. And don't tell Annie I still have it."

"Weirdo."

"That's me. Now go shower and get ready, then I'll tell you all about my mother coming from Colombia to visit this Christmas. If you're still single by then"—he nodded to the charging phone—"you may need to pretend to be my girlfriend."

"Yikes. And don't look at Trystan's cell phone like that."

"Like what?"

"Like it has something to do with my single status."

"Doesn't it?"

"Ha. No." I pursed my lips. "Maybe?"

Armand's eyebrows popped up.

"Kidding," I grumbled. "Kind of." I slunk over to the coffee table and picked up the device. Was it weird that when I looked at it, I was aware of a low-grade fever bubbling away inside me? As the phone came to life, there were texts on the home screen and my insides swooped like a rollercoaster. "Shit."

They were from earlier today.

Armand cackled. "Your hand is shaking."

"It's not," I argued.

"Mi amor. What happened between you two?"

"Honestly, Armand. I'm really not sure what the hell happened this week. Let's just go out. I'm going to dance my ass off and have a good time."

I laid the phone gingerly on the table.

"Okay, mi amor. Go get ready." He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

I showered quickly in Armand's tiny bathroom, careful to keep my hair dry, then put makeup on and slipped on Annie's short black dress. I'd have to wear my flats though, which sucked.

A knock came at the door.

"Yes?"

The door opened and a pair of strappy black high-heeled sandals came through the gap, hanging off Armand's fingers. "She left these too after the Cinco De Mayo party."

"God, I'll kill myself in those. No way."

"Come on!"

"No, they're too big anyway."

"Try them."

"You're a bully."

"I'm a good friend is what I am."

"Argh. Fine. Give them to me." I took them and opened the door to pass him.

"Ooh la la! You look good."

"Whatever I look, it will have to do."

Armand smiled.

"You're being weird, you know that?"

"I'm always weird. It's why you love me."

"Meh," I tossed out over my shoulder as I went to the couch so I could sit and tie on the female torture devices. The phone still sat charging on the side table.



* * *



The first text from Trystan came in as we were leaving to head to Django.



* * *



Suit Monkey: Are you back in Charleston?



* * *



My pulse sped up.

"What is it?"

"It's him," I told Armand. "My instinct wants to respond but . . ."

"Instinct? Your heart? Your gut?"

"You're saying I should?" I asked.

"Emmy, I have no idea what the guy did wrong—"

"He didn't do anything wrong. But he might be wrong."

"Okay, but I can't help because you won't talk about it. So I don't know what you should do. But he's got you tied up, and you're no fun right now because you are not here. You are wherever he is."