Ugh.

One thing I know about the hospitality business is that it can be a little unnerving for friends and family to see you in your place of work. Teachers, construction workers, receptionists, doctors…they don’t very often have their significant others watching them at work.

But in the restaurant business, you’re on display, your worlds colliding. And I know from experience that it can be annoying.

Too late to back out now, Hawkins.

Reece reaches out and turns down the annoying blaring rock music slightly (his turn to pick). “So, where we staying tonight?”

I go still. Uh-oh.

Another thing I haven’t thought out. Though I’ve painstakingly found the absolute cheapest lodging option in every stop, I haven’t done so for Miami. I figured I’d be staying with Oscar, and that’s still my plan.

I hadn’t counted on Reece being in the equation, also needing a place to stay.

“Um.” I dig my phone out of my purse. “Hold on, let me find something real quick.”

I see the moment it clicks, because his knuckles whiten just slightly on the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find something.”

“No, no, that was part of the deal,” I say, already scanning the results on my phone for cheap lodging. “I drag you along on this trip, at least I can find you a good deal on a place to stay. I’ll even pay for it.”

The look he shoots me is murderous, even through his sunglasses. “I swear to God, Lucy, if I wasn’t driving right now, I’d strangle you.”

“I’m trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well offering to pay for my motel room so you can shack up with your boyfriend for two days while I sit around and wait for you isn’t the way to do it.”

“Don’t get pissy. You knew this was the deal,” I say, pushing my glasses onto my head so he can feel the heat of my glare. “And it’s not like I’m leaving you to fend for yourself in a one-horse town; it’s freaking Miami Beach. I’m sure you can find a girl or twelve to hook up with by the time we roll out in a couple days.”

He gives an incredulous laugh. “Un-fucking-believable. Even on your way to surprise your boyfriend, you’re still preoccupied with my sex life.”

“I don’t give a crap about your sex life,” I mutter.

In what has to be the worst possible timing for a traffic jam, we come to a complete standstill on the crowded freeway, and Reece slowly turns toward me, shoving his own glasses on top of his head, his blue eyes hot and angry. He braces one hand against the back of my headrest as he studies me.

“What?” I snap.

His smile is slow and lethal. “Liar. You’re thinking all about my sex life. I think that’s what’s got you fussy. You’re thinking about me sleeping with other women a lot more than you’re thinking about you sleeping with Oscar.”

I start to roll my eyes and turn toward the window, but he snags one long finger under my chin, pulling my face around to his.

“Deny it,” he says, his voice low. “Deny that the outfit wasn’t for me. That you’re having a hard time remembering your boyfriend’s name when I’m around.”

“That’s crap,” I snap. “I haven’t thought about you like that in years. I hate you.”

He smiles as his finger strokes along my jawline. “Yeah. Yeah you do. But you want me.”

“I don’t.”

But the effect of his cool finger against my hot skin threatens to make a liar out of me, so I bat it away and jerk my chin toward the road. “Traffic’s moving. I think we’re close. I need to find you a place to stay so I can get to Oscar’s restaurant.”

His jaw tenses. “Give me the directions there. I’ll drop you off and get you out of my hair.”

“So that you can get into someone else’s pants?”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. Probably a good thing, since we seem to be going in circles. Snap, snap, scratch, bite.

It’s exhausting, and a little sad, honestly. Because I know if either of us let our guard down even a tiny bit, we’d find what’s always been there. A friendship for the ages—a connection I’ve never felt with anyone else.

But with that sort of intensity comes risk—one that didn’t pay off for us.

I’ve written down detailed directions to Oscar’s place, and I read them in a monotone voice as we make our way through crowded Miami.

And the closer we get to Flame, the more antsy I get, and I can’t figure out if it’s nerves or excitement or anger or regret or just some vague sense of uneasiness.

“There,” I say, pointing when I see the sign for his place, suddenly excited, even amid all the nervousness.

Reece says nothing as we approach the restaurant. Flame is in the heart of trendy South Beach, and I haven’t exactly thought through the whole parking/grabbing my stuff scenario, and I bite my lip.

“Go,” he says gruffly, pulling to the curb.

I give him a nervous look, but his expression is unreadable. “What about my stuff? I guess I could take my bag in with me….”

He snorts. “And ruin the effect of that short skirt? Even I don’t hate you that much. I’ll catch up with you later. After I’ve hooked up with, how many girls was it again? Twelve?”

I smile a little because his voice is more teasing than angry for once. “Might as well add one more. Baker’s dozen.”