I giggle… and then I shake my head. I hate giggling. I only giggle when I’m genuinely laughing.

My heart flutters when I hear the bass of his laughter, but in an instant his laughter is shushed, and I hear some noise in his background. Then there is a female’s voice.

“Did you hide them?”

“Hide what?” Griffin snaps.

“My keys? Did you hide them?”

“Why would I hide your keys, Colette?”

“Because you’re probably still mad about last night. Where are they?”

“I don’t know, Colette,” he grumbles.

“Who are you talking to?” I hear her ask after a brief pause. “Why are you laughing?”

“It’s business,” Griffin responds.

“You know what? Whatever. I don’t care. I’m off to weight training.”

A door slams in the background and then it’s quiet for a moment. “Everything okay?” I ask.

“Just peachy,” he bites out. “So, San Diego? Yes? No? I can schedule the jet.” He’s annoyed now, not as playful as he was less than a minute ago.

Isn’t it insane how one person can change your entire attitude? One minute your fine and dandy, and the next you’re ready to blow fire because they said something you didn’t like.

I lift my head, looking at the mirror on the wall across from me. It’s a floor to ceiling mirror.

I’m in a pretty sweet hotel in the heart of Miami, right off the coast, per Griffin’s recommendation. He sent the text only a few minutes after he left from Swede’s.

Griffin Boyd: In case you really want to spend another night here, I love The Swan. Great rooms. Pricey but truly worth it.

He was right. It is worth it. Room service is quick, the water is hot, the bed is so comfortable, and this view is spectacular.

I study my attire. I’m wearing my favorite pink robe, hair tied up, face clear of any signs of makeup. “Sure. San Diego sounds great. What time are you trying to fly out? As soon as possible, I assume?”

He laughs. “What makes you say that?”

“Doors slamming, attitudes swirling in the atmosphere. Seems you need a little vacation, Mr. Boyd.”

“Nah… it’s whatever.”

I push to a stand, phone glued to my ear as I walk towards the balcony window. The sun is blazing today. I feel the heat of its rays through the glass.

If only I had the time to really bask in its warmth.

“I’ll be there. Just send me the location.”

“You’re at The Swan, right?”

“I am.”

“How do you like it?”

“Oh, I love it. It’s great.”

“Knew you would. Since I know where you are, don’t worry about finding a ride. I’ll pick you up.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” I say in protest but he cuts me off.

“No,” he murmurs. “I feel awful for leaving you at Swede’s like that last night. Please, consider this handled. I’ll see you at 2 PM sharp?”

I nod as if he can see me, biting a smile. “Okay. Two on the dot. Bags will be packed and out the door with me by their side.” Oh, God. Why did I just say that?

“Sounds lovely.” I can hear the smile in his voice before he hangs up, like he sense my embarrassment.

I lower the phone, staring down at the screen. The fluttering in my chest is hard to ignore. I really need to get over myself.

He’s just a man. Men flirt all the time. Sometimes they do it and don’t even realize it.

I start packing some of my belongings, pulling out one of my favorite dresses. Burgundy, with black leather straps, perfect for this Florida heat.

Since I have time, I get dressed in a pair of leggings, a Nike T-shirt, and tennis shoes, and run across the street to the bistro. I order two chocolate croissants, a bagel with hazelnut cream cheese, and a diet Coke.

I devour my unhealthy, carb-filled breakfast while going over my papers for Quarter. They are fairly simple. I can organize these files in no time when I get back to New Mexico.

Scott will be pleased. He was ecstatic that we got things to work out so well.

While I’m doing all of this, I can’t pretend that Griffin isn’t on my mind… because he is. And I can’t stand it, but I also can’t help it.

I can’t get over how rude his wife was to him. Now that I have witnessed it firsthand, I feel truly awful for him.

Honestly, I don’t even think it’s that she doesn’t appreciate him. That’s far from it. There is a level of disrespect. Loathing.

She isn’t fond of her husband. She has fallen out of love with him for some reason—one I may never know. It’s been that way for years, I can tell. You can hear the displeasure in her voice.

The coldness.

The disconnect.

I lay down on the bed, resting my head on the pillows. My eyes seal.

Since I drank so much last night, I spent most of my night writing up a contract for Quarter and emailing my lawyer, Lexi, to make sure it sounded consistent and didn’t have any holes or loose ends.

I didn’t fall asleep until around three this morning. I’m in need of a quick snooze before this flight.

Just thirty minutes.

Well, that’s the plan anyway. Unfortunately my nap lasts longer than I thought because my phone buzzes and when I see Griffin’s name on the screen I spring up.

“Shit!” I jump out of bed, checking the time. 1:45 PM.

Fifteen minutes to get dressed, put on some makeup, and pack the rest of my shit. Oh, God.

I rush to the bathroom where my dress is hanging and slip into it, brushing my curls out, applying a light coat of mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick, and then rushing back for the room.

I grab everything that belongs to me, stuffing it in my suitcase. Picking up my folders and iPad, I tuck it all beneath my left arm, and then go for the mirror.

I’m a disheveled mess, but I have no time to adjust or fix that because in a matter of seconds my phone rings again.

Clumsily, I rush for the nightstand, struggling to pick it up. Griffin is calling.

I answer, putting it on speaker so I don’t have to hold it. “Yes?”

“All set?”

“Yeah. Coming down,” I say hurriedly.

“I’m out front. Take your time.” He can sense that I am in a bit of a rush.

I hang up, releasing the handle of my suitcase to grab my clutch.

I slide my phone into it, slip the clutch into the side pocket of my suitcase, and then I’m out of the door, hurrying down the hallway, and hitting the down button for the elevator, on my way to meet the beautiful Griffin Boyd.

The flight is soothing.

I have a mug of coffee at my side, seated comfortably in the ivory leather chair. I take a quick sip of the hot brew, peering up at Griffin.

He’s sitting right across from me, typing away on his MacBook. He’s been fairly quiet since picking me up. I can’t help but think it’s all because of his wife.

Placing my mug back down, I pick up a few papers and pretend to study them. But really, my eyes are shifting up to admire him. He has one leg crossed, his laptop on the wood-grain tray connected to the creamy ivory chair.

He looks handsome in his pinstriped navy blue suit. His hair has been trimmed. It is gelled to perfection, giving a professional yet messy appeal. It fits him.

“Do you know if Neil has contacted Milo again?” Griffin looks up at me over the screen of his laptop. I blink rapidly, staring senselessly as I watch his mouth. With a tilt of his head and an upward curve of his sculpted pink lips, he asks, “Angelina? You there?”

“Yep. All here. Sorry… I’m just really tired.” And really attracted to you. I lick my dry lips, dropping my papers and taking my cellphone out of my clutch, scrolling through my contacts to email Neil.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?”

“Not much… but who needs sleep these days, right?” I laugh.

“I guess I can’t blame you. I didn’t sleep much last night either.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, keeping my gaze down. I think I have an idea why but I’m sure he won’t tell me.