The Bluff (Graham Brothers, #2)(48)

“I intercepted this, but it’s none of my business. Heatherette, aka Pleather, tried to slip you her number.”

Heatherette. I was sort of close.

“Take it,” Winnie says.

“No.”

“James.”

“No.”

“Fine.” Winnie balls up the napkin and drops it in her empty beer glass. “You want to know why I was acting possessive? Before you got here, Pleather was already asking tons of questions about you and the famous Graham family. Apparently, she saw me with you earlier and was trying to make an inroad. I thought I’d save you from someone just interested in your name. Seems like the kind of thing you’d hate.”

I do hate that. I really, really do. Still, I can’t seem to find it in me to thank Winnie.

“So, what’s your excuse? What were you protecting me from just now?”

I have no idea what possessed me to scare Daniel off … or don’t want to admit it. I shrug. “A man who doesn’t know when to get a haircut.”

Winnie stares for a moment, then laughs, sliding down in her seat, wiping her eyes underneath her glasses. “Classic. Are you going to tell me next to stay away from guys with beards? Because that would be half the conference.”

“Guys with mustaches too.”

“Good thing I came here to work, not meet some mustachioed man to sweep me off my feet,” Winnie says, and even the idea of her meeting a man has the back of my neck getting hot.

She slumps even farther down in the booth. “Too many fries,” she says, groaning. “Why didn’t you help me eat them?”

“You didn’t ask.” And I probably wouldn’t have anyway, just out of principle. I’m uncomfortably full, and Winnie ate at least as much as I did.

I almost jump out of my seat when Winnie’s hands deftly click open the button of her jeans. Immediately I avert my gaze. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

From my periphery, I see Winnie untuck her tank, covering the top of her unbuttoned jeans. “Relax. This is a common practice among women, James. Eat too much, unbutton your pants after a meal.”

“No.”

She laughs. “No, it’s not a common practice, or no, I can’t do it?”

“The second one.”

“You may be my boss, but you’re not the man in charge of my buttons.”

The man in charge of her buttons. I’m on my feet instantly. My brain is filled with images of buttons, followed by zippers and—I need to instantly bleach this idea from my brain—being the one in charge of them all.

Just to note: Her shirt is all buttons, all the way down.

“No,” I say again, thankful I’ve spent years working on my poker face. “Just … no.”

As Winnie slides out of the booth, I manage to corral my thoughts into a place where buttons do not exist. I keep my eyes averted still as I grab my jacket.

“Sheesh, sorry. I figured with a sister, this kind of thing would be old news. I didn’t mean to scandalize your poor, innocent brain.”

“Harper is very particular about her clothing choices,” I say. We head outside and start on the quick walk to the hotel.

Winnie groans again, patting her stomach. “I may go upstairs and change. Though I think the only thing I have more comfortable than jeans is pajamas. And I’m not wearing those.”

“You’re in luck,” I tell her, holding open the lobby door, the same way I would for anyone else. “I think there are leggings for sale on the third floor.”

Winnie turns around, walking backward and barely missing a young clown passing by on a hoverboard. “Why, James,” she says, grinning and fluttering her lashes in an exaggerated way. “Did you just make a joke?”

I did, and like so many other things I’ve done today, it disturbs me. Because I don’t make jokes. I also don’t get jealous and act the way I’ve been acting. I most especially shouldn’t be doing it with Winnie.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” I say, hopping on the escalator just before a group of women in matching purple zebra-striped leggings.

I don’t see Winnie for the rest of the afternoon, but that doesn’t stop me from constantly looking for her.





FROM THE NEIGHBORLY APP





Subject: Is it cancer or ebola?



SlimShabby I have this spot that’s red and inflamed. I thought maybe cancer but when I googled, it looks more like Ebola. Now I’m scared to see a doctor in case I spread the virus.

Does this look like Ebola?



Chels

Ew! It’s not Ebola but definitely an infection. See a doctor. As soon as possible.



1BigBass How do you know it’s not Ebola? Are you a doctor?



BobToo

Looks like an ingrown hair.



Cal_45

Looks like my ex-wife



Vanz

Looks like a hairless cat



Danielle_L

Posting a photo of Possum Boots, our hairless cat, for comparison. That looks like a staph infection, not a hairless cat.



Cal_45

Also looks like my ex-wife



SweetPea43

Cal, I swear, I’m gonna key your car if you keep talking about me on here.