Page 14 of Pillow Talk

Damn!

“How about you pack a bag and meet me at the diner at 9:00 AM, tomorrow morning, and we can iron out the details on the way? We fly out around noon,” I offer, knowing, for some reason, she doesn’t want me to see where she lives.

Just because I grew up wealthy doesn’t mean I’m ignorant about the situations some others live in.

“Fine. What should I pack?” she inquires.

“Just the basics or whatever you can’t live without. The rest we can pick up in New York.”

“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, almost far away sounding, and I can hear some fumbling.

Then it occurs to me, she’s in the shower, and I have to grip the steering wheel to avoid running off the road.

“Oh, Alexa, one more thing,” I call, knowing it’s probably hard to hear over the rush of the water.

“Hmmm?” she responds.

“I need your last name for the flight. Also, if it’s not to creepy, I need you to take a picture of your driver’s license or ID and text it to me, if you could.”

“It’s James. And how could sending you my ID be anymore creepy than being taken across state lines by a complete stranger for money?” she replies with a hint of amusement in her voice. This is going to be fun.

“Touché.” I laugh. “See you tomorrow, Alexa. Good luck on your—” The line goes dead. Shit, I must have passed through a dead zone.

I hit the accelerator and rush to my condo to shower and change. This day just keeps getting better. And to think, last night was one of the worst nights of my life before wondering into her little diner.

I need to book Alexa’s ticket then make sure to call my mom and remind her and my dad that I’ll be out of town for a few days and that I’ll be missing Sunday diner. I’m going to catch so much shit I know. Then, a thought passes through my mind. A vision really. It’s of Alexa with me at my parents’ house for Sunday dinner. A place that Tess never fit in, it was never fancy enough for her.

My parents are by no means paupers. My dad owns a successful accounting firm, and my mom was a school teacher, but they are certainly not socialites. Everyone assumes I’m just another trust fund baby, but I’ve worked hard for what I have. However, something tells me that Alexa is different and that she would be right at home in the Hamilton house.

Not sure what to do with that thought, I set it aside and focus on getting through the next twenty-four hours. If I’m going to keep things professional, I’m going to need to approach this like every other business deal – with a cool and level head.

Thank God were staying at my place I keep in the city and not a hotel; having a shared space but two rooms and two bathrooms will be perfect. People do this kind of thing all the time. Right?