Only Mine (Honey Mountain #5)(9)

What the fuck did that even mean? That was what I was talking about. The woman made no sense.

“All right. I’m getting on the elevator. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Love you,” she said.

“Love you, too.” I ended the call. My mom and my sister, Sabine, were the only people I said those words to, because I’d been doing it since as early as I could remember, and apparently, old habits die hard. Not to mention, if I didn’t say it to my baby sister on the phone, she would call back at least a dozen times to make sure everything was okay. I’d learned my lesson years ago, and I always made sure Sabine and my mother knew how I felt about them.

My phone vibrated when I stepped off the elevator, and I glanced down to see a message from Dylan. We’d exchanged numbers as we’d be traveling together for the next two weeks, and she’d insisted we needed to have open communication.

Minx ~ Hey, it’s Dylan. Braxton Jones is not coming. He tweeted that grabbing a drink at his favorite haunt in the city was the perfect way to end the day. I used my handy-dandy detective skills after reading all the comments about the place, and I think he’s at a bar a few blocks away. I’m on my way, and I’ll see if I can get him to come back to the hotel for our meeting.

Yes. I put her in my phone as Minx because it fit her better than her actual name. And what the fuck was she thinking, going to a bar alone to find some jackass sports agent?

Me ~ Are you fucking crazy? You’re just off on a scavenger hunt in New York City, looking for Braxton Jones?

Minx ~ Again… I don’t answer to you, <Wolf emoji>! I see him. Get a table for three. I’ll get him there, no matter what it takes.

Me ~ Tell me where you are. I’ll meet you there. It’s not safe to be doing this on your own.

Minx ~ I am not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself just fine. I’m carrying, of course. Just get the table. He’s staring at me, and let’s just say, he likes what he sees. Get ready to see me work my magic.

Me ~ You’re carrying? What the fuck does that mean?

Minx ~ <knife emoji>

She took a steak knife with her to a bar?

Me ~ Either tell me where you are or come back here right now.

I settled at a tall table in the bar and ordered a whiskey straight up. I wasn’t a big drinker, but this woman was getting under my skin, and I needed to calm the fuck down. She couldn’t have gotten that far, so I could just go walk a few blocks in each direction and look for her. My phone vibrated, and I glanced down.

Un-fucking-believable.

She’d sent a selfie of her and whom I was guessing was Braxton Jones. He had his arm around her shoulder.

Minx ~ We’re both starving, so get a table, please.

What was I? Her personal fucking assistant? I polished off my drink and made my way to the hostess stand.

“Well, hello,” she said flirtatiously.

“Hey. I need a table for three, please.”

She reached for a few menus and glanced over her shoulder and waggled her brows at me. “Does that mean you’re single?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, there are three of you. I can only hope you’re meeting a couple, and you’re still on the market?”

I’d clearly been away from the real world for far too long over the last decade. I’d never hurt for female attention, but this was next level.

“Just meeting some friends,” I said, as I sat down at the table.

She paused, pulled something from her pocket, and then miraculously found a pen from behind her ear and jotted something down before handing it to me. “I’m Jos, and I’m off at ten tonight. Let’s meet up.”

I took the card and forced a small smile. She was sexy. A little too forward for my liking. I didn’t mind a woman who made me work for it. This was a little too easy, but I was on edge, thanks to my partner from hell for the next ninety days. Spending the night with a beautiful woman didn’t sound like a horrible idea. I nodded. She giggled and hurried off, and I tucked her phone number into my pocket.

I glanced down to type a message to Dylan, when loud laughter drew my attention. She and Jones were walking my way, and he still had his arm around Dylan.

For whatever reason, it rubbed me wrong.

For starters, it was unprofessional.

He was a few inches shorter than me, which still had him standing quite a bit taller than her. Braxton was muscular, with a thick neck and a cocky grin that I wouldn’t mind slapping off his face. Dylan looked small walking beside him. She wore dark skinny jeans that made her legs look long and lean, a black sweater that fell off one of her shoulders, exposing golden skin, and a pair of sexy-as-shit heels. Every dude in the place had his eyes on her. Her long, wavy blonde hair fell around her shoulders and down her back. I hadn’t seen her hair down before, and damn if my dick didn’t jump to attention at the sight of her. Thoughts of wrapping those waves around my fist and claiming her sassy mouth while she writhed beneath me filled my head. She’d clearly annoyed the fuck out of me over the last twenty-four hours, and this was just a way to shut her the hell up.

Desperate times and all that.

Her gaze locked with mine, and she raised a brow.

Told you I’d deliver.

She didn’t have to speak to let me know she’d won this one.

Fuck. I’d give it to her. I wouldn’t have gone searching for the asshole. Maybe she was the right person for the job.