Bait (Wake, #1)(50)

Honeybee: Good. I'm busy. Text later.

Me: I'm not texting you later.

I liked playing that game. Even though the look on her face was one of annoyance and confusion, I reveled in the way telling her I wouldn't text her later visibly bothered her. She sucked her bottom lip in her mouth, pulling at the right side of it, and scowled at her phone. She still didn't notice me. One of the event workers escorted her to her booth.

Her focus was solely on her phone, and she didn't look up as she walked. She couldn't be browsing anything. It was damn near impossible to do that with one hand. And with her only one free hand, she hauled her cases behind her. She barely noticed that one was tipped on its side and she was full-on dragging it. Blake's shoulders were hunched forward, looking a little deflated. She kept her eyes locked to the same spot on the phone.

When she got to a spot where she had to make a turn to stay in the mostly unfilled aisles, I texted her once to prove a strange theory. I told myself, playing the devil's advocate, “She's not rereading your message, don't f*cking flatter yourself.”

Me: Cheer up, Betty.

Instantly, she released her lip.

I'd really missed her. How was it that I'd only spent a handful of hours with this girl and I missed her that much? It couldn't only be because she was sexy as hell in bed. It probably wasn't that she was ambitious and weird. I didn't know what, but it was something. And seeing her in front of me brought home how much I'd truly missed her.

I didn't think she'd try to text with one hand. I totally thought she'd wait, and then she'd see me before she would have time to type back. But she surprised me.

She stopped in the middle of the aisle about thirty feet away. She should have let go of the rolling suitcases, but she held onto them. And with one hand she sent a message.

Honeybee: Dnt do tht.

It flashed across my screen.

I held my phone out in front of me, higher than I normally would so that I wouldn't have to look away from her. I was enthralled. It had been so long since I’d seen her and my greedy eyes wanted to indulge as much as they could.

Me: Do wht?

She let go of both cases and they fell to the outside of the walkway around her legs. With both hands she typed.

Honeybee: Don't play with me like that. We're friends. Remember? Don't be a jerk.

Me: Just friends?

Still holding my phone up close to my face, keeping both in view, I saw the breath she pulled in. I prayed to myself that that was what lying to yourself looked like, before I read her reply.

Honeybee: Yes.

Me: We'll see about that.

I closed out of the message. I didn't know what she'd reply. I opened the camera app instead and waited for it to ready itself, taking the time to zoom in a little, and allowing the lens focus on her.

I said, a little louder than my speaking voice, “There comes trouble.” I was so glad I'd had the forethought to take the picture, as her face was priceless. It was pure Blake.

Her eyes lifted to mine hearing my voice, like her ears were tuned to me from all those feet away. She didn't even need to scan for me. Her sharp gaze landed on me instantly. Then she did this thing where she sucked both of her lips in her mouth to keep from either screaming or smiling. I'd be happy with either; and knowing that it was one or the other made me want to do the same.

But I held my shit together and tried my best at being cool.

Then reality hit her and she realized that the person escorting her to the booth was picking up her cases and dragging them to the area right across from mine.

I was a f*cking genius!

But she didn't know I was a genius. She thought it was something else. I could see the awe on her face at the realization we were right across from each other, in the same state, town, building and room as each other. It was awesome to watch.

When she finally started walking toward me, her hands out in front of her cream silk-covered breasts, phone still in hand, ponytail and bangs swishing from side to side, she asked, “Can you believe this?” Then she shook her head wildly and looked from one side of the aisle to the other. “What. The. Hell?” she said slowly and to herself.

“I saw you walk in. This is crazy, huh?” I smiled. “Looks like you're right across from us.” I tried to make a “that's weird” face when I shook my head like she was, playing along. Then I couldn't resist and went to her.

There was a bounce in my step for many reasons. Our booth was finished; hers was not. I'd had Troy and she appeared alone.

Things were working out.

“Is this all of your stuff? Do you need some help?” I asked.

She said, “I'll have more tomorrow, this stuff is easy really. I'll have some food on the table and someone here to help. I came today to register and make sure everything got here.” Then she looked at me in wonder. “How are you, like, here?”

“My company sent me. Thought it was good marketing or something. I do these shows all the time.”

“You do?” I imagined the wheels in her head were spinning, trying to remember me talking about these shows, but I never had. She never asked what I was doing when we text. How was she to know that I'd been in over a dozen cities in the last few months? If I wasn't at a show I was scoping out bars, hotels, restaurants and talking to distribution houses about getting us into their retailers.