I've Got This Read online

Wait.

  “Did you say you’ve been up over twenty hours?” I look at my watch. It’s nearly one. “What the hell for?”

  He waves a hand. “Work crap. It’s been a crazy couple of days.”

  Looking closely at his face, I can see the signs of tiredness. How did I miss them before? Probably because he was smiling so much. Animated. Happy.

  To be with me.

  I really can be an ass sometimes.

  I kiss him quickly on the mouth, not letting myself linger even though I really want to. “Go home,” I say firmly. “Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  He smiles at me again, his real smile, and predictably I feel all warm and mushy.

  “Good night, Trav.” He turns and goes back to his car. I stand there and watch until he drives away, waving at me.

  It’s not until I turn toward the direction signpost to orient myself that I realize.

  Oh, crap.

  I’m living out a sappy rom-com.

  Chapter Eight

  Trav

  I WAKE on Wednesday morning with a smile on my face, due entirely to my incredible dreams. Derek played a starring role in all of them, and some had nothing to do with sex.

  That actually makes me a bit nervous. I hardly know this guy, but already I feel more than just attraction for him. Part of me is tempted to end it all now, before I can get in too deep, because if I’m already feeling this much now, how much more involved could it get? And how much would it hurt when it all ends?

  Because it’s going to end. That’s not me being negative; it’s me being practical. I’m a Broadway performer. I live and work in New York—this is actually the first time I’ve ever toured with a show, and my contract is only until we finish the run here at Joy Universe. Rick begged me to come along, but I wasn’t willing to commit to more than six months away from the city. My agent is already lining up potential parts for me to start rehearsals later in the year. The best place for my career is New York—or maybe London, but I’ve never seriously considered moving to England. Either way, Joyville, Georgia, doesn’t compare. My career is my priority, and I’ve never made any secret of that, even if my last two boyfriends didn’t believe me when I first told them and consequently left me because of it.

  Derek, on the other hand, has a great job here. Really, “great” is an understatement. He reports directly to the director of the whole of Joy Universe, who in turn reports directly to the chief executive officer of Joy Incorporated, which has a revenue of tens of billions of dollars every year. Joy Universe itself produces nearly a third of that, and Derek is directly responsible for a big chunk of Joy Universe’s current success.

  In case you’re wondering, no, Derek didn’t tell me this. I was so wound up last night that I did some googling from my trusty iPhone. It’s shocking how much information is out there if you take the time to search for it. I now know more than I ever thought I wanted to about Joy Incorporated, Joy Universe, their corporate hierarchy and finances, and Planet Joy, which, it may interest you to know, is the most profitable of all the parks here at Joy Universe. Derek’s name came up a few times as well. There have been articles about him in several business magazines, the first three years ago when he was promoted to his current job. Apparently he was the youngest ever person to fill the role. It doesn’t surprise me, but it does speak to how committed he is to his job and career—not that I didn’t know that, after everything I’ve seen and heard this week.

  An article from earlier this year focused on the revenue and profits of various theme parks and entertainment complexes around the world, and of course Joy Universe featured, since it’s the second-largest globally. Derek’s name came up several times, because apparently the properties he’s responsible for are the most profitable in Joy Universe, and Planet Joy is the second-most profitable theme park in the world. That’s right, the only theme park that makes more profit than Planet Joy is the Magic Kingdom. The author of the article speculated that Joy Incorporated’s executive management and board would eventually transfer Derek to California to work for the parent company.

  So what it comes down to is that he’s not likely to want to quit and move back to New York.

  My train of thought is broken by the quiet beep of my phone. I reach through the dimness—the room is only lit by the tiny bit of early morning sun that can get around the blinds—and snag it from the nightstand, checking the time. Just before seven.

  The text is from Derek, and a stupid smile stretches my mouth. Kev’s asleep still, and nobody can see, so I let it.

  Just wanted to let you know I plan to take advantage of that maybe.

  It takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about, and when I do, my whole body goes hot and tense. I guess I’m not as terrible at flirting as I thought last night. Or if I am, he at least understood what I meant.

  But now I need to text him back, and I have no idea what to say. I want to ask if he slept well. I want to sound flirty and sexy and make sure he’s excited about dating me. And maybe set up a time that’s not a lunch break for us to get together. At his place. Preferably in his bedroom, although if he has a comfortable couch, I’d be okay with the living room.

  Can’t wait. Sometime soon, I hope.

  I stare at the phone after I send the text, wishing I could take it back. It’s not terrible, exactly, but I could probably have come up with something better. If I had six hours, a creative team, and a couple of reference books about the art of flirting and sexting.

  Ugh.

  My phone rings in my hand and I jump. Derek’s name is on the screen, and I swipe to answer as I glance over at Kev, who predictably hasn’t woken.

  “Hold on,” I whisper, throwing back the covers and hightailing it to the door, stopping only to grab my room key on the way.

  Outside, the sunshine is already bright despite the early hour. I sit on the steps that lead down to the garden, the same place I sat just two days ago when I was talking to Rick, and lift the phone to my ear. “Hey.” I keep my voice as casual as I can, but I can’t help the frisson of excitement that runs through me.

  “Good morning,” Derek says in that voice that always does interesting things to my insides. “Did you sleep well?”

  I remember some of those dreams, and even though he can’t possibly know what I’m thinking, I blush hotly. “Very well,” I say, and then clear my throat. Wow, was that my voice, all husky?

  There’s a slight pause, and then Derek clears his throat as well. “Good,” he says.

  “Did you sleep well? More to the point, did you sleep enough?” It can’t be good for him to get so little sleep. He’s not exactly a teenager anymore.

  “I did, on both counts. It took me a while to drift off, though. I—er… missed you.” That last bit sounds both sheepish and sultry, and I have no idea how he manages to pull it off.

  “I missed you too.” I assume he’s referring to the fact that we were both as hard as steel posts when we parted ways. “Do you have a big day today?”

  He sighs. From the background noise, he’s in the car and driving somewhere—probably to work. “Big enough. We’re still catching up after everything that happened on Monday. It was not the best ever start to a week.”

  I snort. “I’m sure, although it worked out pretty well for me.” I nod politely at an older couple strolling past, although the woman glares—probably because I’m only wearing boxers. I’m decently covered, though, nothing hanging out that shouldn’t be, so she’ll just have to get over it.

  “Anyway,” Derek goes on, “I called for a reason. Well, mostly because since you were awake and I’m not at work yet, I wanted to talk to you instead of just texting.” Awww. “But also because I figured you might need the car sooner rather than later, so if you let me know what time is good, I’ll arrange for someone to run you out to my house to pick it up.”

  I hesitate because it feels to me like he’d need to go to a lot of trouble to organize that. “I don’t want to put you out,”
I say slowly. “It can wait until you’re not working.” As soon as I say it, I realize how dumb that is.

  “Trav, I’ll probably be here tonight until seven, and I’m guessing that by then, you’ll be getting ready for your show, yeah? And I don’t want to waste our lunch hour tomorrow driving out to my place and back when we can just be enjoying each other’s company. This is no hassle, I swear.” He sounds eminently reasonable, and he’s right, so I give in.

  “If you’re sure it’s no trouble, that would be great. Um, but I can organize a cab or something. You don’t need to send someone.”

  “It’s fine,” he says dismissively. “Why should you pay for a cab when JU has a bunch of drivers and cars on call for guests?”

  I’m guessing he means VIP guests, but hey, he did say on Monday that those of us who helped out were going to get some special treatment.

  “Okay,” I agree, because riding in those chauffeur-driven cars was very cool and very comfortable, and I’m okay with doing it one more time. “I want to go for a run and get some breakfast, but I can be ready by nine. Does that work?”

  “Perfect.” The note of satisfaction in his voice is impossible to miss. “I’ll have someone waiting out the front of the resort.” His tone shifts to something a little more intimate. “If I don’t talk to you again today, can I call you tonight, after the show?”

  I feel that buzz again. “Yeah,” That husky note is back. “Um, I should be done and back in my room by eleven.” It’s a little earlier than I’m usually back, but I’d much rather be talking to Derek while Kev’s still out than hang around backstage with people I work with every day. Although… Derek needs to be up early, and he could probably do with catching up on sleep. “Is that too late?”

  “No.” He’s smiling, I can tell. “Not too late.”

  I want to stay on the phone with him, but I also don’t want to be the giant dork who keeps him on the phone talking when he has a ton of other things to do, so I say, “Cool. Okay, I better let you go if I’m going to have that run. I’ll talk to you later.” I’m actually pretty impressed by how normal I sound, because there are a ton of butterflies in my stomach when I think about talking to him tonight.

  “Yeah, I’m just about to get to the office, so I really do have to go.” He sounds reluctant, though, and I just love that.

  It takes us a few more moments to actually say goodbye and end the call. I sit there on the steps for a bit longer, not willing to break the spell. I’m happy. Really happy. Like, I feel stupid about being this happy just because a guy I’ve been on one date with wants to talk to me at the end of the day. And I’m scared that if I leave this little bubble of happiness here on the steps to one of the many buildings in this resort, it’ll burst. Something will change, and I won’t be able to get this feeling back again.

  But I can’t stay here forever. I have to get on with my day.

  At least the passing hours will bring me closer to that phone call.

  THE DRIVER waiting out the front of the resort passes a bulky envelope back from the front seat before he starts the engine.

  “What’s this?” I turn the envelope over before it hits me. Duh—I’m going to need a key to drive the car. The driver shrugs.

  “Dunno—I was just told to give it to you.” He drives down the resort driveway toward the road.

  “Thanks. Uh, you know where we’re going, right?” Because it’s just occurred to me that I don’t have a clue.

  He rattles off an address, and even though it’s all Greek to me, I say, “Great,” and settle back in my seat. The envelope seems a bit full to just have a key fob in it, so I rip it open, and the key and a garage door opener fall out.

  Huh. I don’t know why I just assumed that the car would be parked on the street, or in the driveway, but I did. “Am I supposed to give this back to you?” I ask the driver. He flicks a glance over his shoulder and shrugs.

  “Nobody said anything to me.”

  I pull out my phone and text Derek.

  Do you want me to send the garage opener back with the driver?

  It takes a few minutes for him to reply, but not so long that we’ve left the complex yet. Seriously, this place is huge.

  Nah, just hang on to it until I see you. It’s a spare.

  I’m still digesting the trust behind that gesture when another message pops up.

  Or if you have time you can bring it to me at the office and we can have coffee? I have a gap between meetings at 10.15, and the coffee cart in the lobby is good.

  I don’t even hesitate.

  How do I find you?

  Does that seem too eager? Too bad. I am eager.

  I’ll send you a link to a map. Give me a few minutes to find it.

  K.

  I’m grinning as the car finally leaves Joy Universe and turns onto the highway, and yes, I’m still grinning like an idiot when my phone dings with Derek’s map and instructions on where I’m going, and yes, the grin is still there when we finally pull up in front of a really nice house with a wide porch and a double garage.

  The driver puts the car in park. “I’m supposed to wait and make sure you get the car okay.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I get out and close the door behind me, then point the opener toward the garage and hit the button.

  The door opens. That’s a good start.

  There’s only one car in the garage, which makes sense because Derek would have taken the other one to work. But this car isn’t the old banger I was envisaging—although knowing what I do about Derek, I have no idea why I was envisaging a banger. His current car is a Mercedes. It’s unlikely the old one would have been a thirty-year-old rust bucket. What’s waiting for me is a Lexus.

  I’ve never driven a Lexus before. Admittedly, I’ve never driven much, because I live in New York, but all my driving has been in much more standard cars. I guess this will be something new.

  I walk up the driveway and stop just inside the garage, then look at the key fob. There’s a button with an open padlock on it, which I’m guessing is the unlock one. I press it, and the car lights flash—another good sign.

  Before I do anything else, I glance quickly around the garage. I’m not being nosy, exactly, but… yeah, I am. In my defense, I don’t go poking around in anything; I just let my eyes explore. It’s a nice garage, tidy, with storage shelves along one wall and a door (presumably into the house) opposite. Just looking doesn’t tell me a lot about Derek, though, except that he’s neat.

  I get in the car and take a second to orient myself. It all looks straightforward enough, so a moment later I start the engine, kind of relieved when it actually starts. I don’t know why, but a tiny part of me was worried that it wouldn’t.

  I back out of the garage and pause on the driveway while the garage door closes. No way am I risking leaving it open for anyone to wander into. I’m trying to impress Derek, not get him robbed.

  Behind me the JU driver beeps his horn and drives off. The garage door closes, and I check the map on my phone again. Getting back to JU should be pretty easy, but after that it might be tricky, so I decide to rely on Google Maps. I program the address in, and it comes back with an ETA of 9:50 a.m.

  On impulse, I change my destination to the local community theater. I’m going to be spending some time there in the coming months, so I may as well get the lay of the land. I reverse onto the street and follow the easy directions to downtown Joyville.

  It’s a really pretty town, but it’s not that big, and I’m soon cruising down Main Street toward the community theater. I take in the shops and public buildings. The town isn’t that old, relatively speaking, since it was built when Joy Universe was, but I guess the benefit of a town being designed and planned instead of growing organically is that you can choose a style. Joyville is pure Americana, like every small town in every ’50s sitcom, except with some modern franchises. I like it.

  I pull into the parking lot attached to the community theater and turn off the engine. There’s not l
ikely to be anyone there, but I’ll walk around the outside of the building, see if they have any posters up by the door. I don’t even know what the show will be—or even if it’s a play or musical theater. I should have asked, but I always had other things on my mind.

  I’m just approaching the front door of the building—after carefully making sure I locked the car—when a woman comes out of the pharmacy next door and intercepts me.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?” There’s a distinctly wary look on her face, and I mentally revise my idea that the inhabitants of small towns are always open and friendly.

  “No, I was just looking around,” I assure her. “I’m going to be volunteering with the community theater, and I just wanted to get the lay of the land.”

  That doesn’t seem to assuage her wariness, and she glances over my shoulder toward the car. “Isn’t that Derek Bryer’s car?” she says pointedly.

  Does she think I stole it?

  Nah. Why would anyone steal a car and then drive through town in it and park in front of the community theater?

  “Yes, it is. He’s being nice enough to lend it to me so I have transport while I’m here.” It’s more information than I would usually give to a stranger, but hey. Small town, right? Be friendly. Volunteer in the community.

  I also look over my shoulder toward the car. Can I leave yet?

  Just as it looks like she’s going to say something else, a man comes out of the pharmacy waving a cell phone. “Tracy, it’s all right! Derek says he lent him the car.”

  Oh. My. God.

  She did think I stole it. Was she just keeping me here while they checked with Derek? Small towns are creepy. I miss New York.

  Sure enough, Tracy is now smiling. “That’s so nice of Derek, just the kind of thing he would do. So you’re going to volunteer with the theater? That’s great. They do some wonderful productions.”

  I paste on a smile. “Yeah. I’m… excited about it. Sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I have to get back. Nice to meet you.” I’m backing away before I even finish speaking.