The Checklist by Addie Woolridge (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

doing a happy dance, which would probably wake him up. She’d managed to have “a little fun,” as her mother would have put it. Actually, more than a little fun.

Remembering her family, Dylan wrinkled her nose and tried not to think about how to explain where she’d been the night before. Would they even notice she hadn’t been home? Not that she needed to be home; she was a full-grown woman. That said, she’d get asked questions she didn’t have answers to. She moved over to take a closer look at the clock, and her heart rate began to dance as she thought through her situation. If she managed to set the feud aside, which she couldn’t, her whole life was in Texas, or at least the bits of it that were still intact. Her job, for however long she had it, was there. Her friends—also in Texas. Her possessions, although still at Nicolas’s place, were in Texas. Mike knew she was only here temporarily. He couldn’t expect this to continue for any length of time, could he?

Dylan rolled onto her back and saw Mike peacefully dozing with one arm tucked under his cheek, the other stretched across the space where she had been a few minutes before. Her eyes widened as she looked over at him, thoughts hiccuping. It was now 4:57 a.m.; she was in someone else’s comfy bed, after some damn good sex and a nice evening.

A nice evening with a guy who was kind and had asked her to stay. Dylan had started the night with every intention of doing the best she could to get out of dinner without damaging him or anybody else. She was supposed to be helping. Instead she had done the exact opposite.

“Oh my God,” Dylan mouthed at the ceiling, her agitation growing.

She could not possibly stay. Here Mike was, all smiles and thoughtful gestures, and she was basically holding herself together with double-sided tape. She silently threw back the covers, then began the painstaking task of searching an unfamiliar room for her things, talking herself through her next move all the while. As far as she could tell, the best thing to do was to get out of there. Tomorrow she could buy him dinner or something and tell him the truth. After a glass of wine or three, she could be honest about the googled list and what was left of her mess of a life in Texas. She could even tell the truth about the likelihood of her being successful at Technocore. She just couldn’t do it right now. Or first thing in the morning. Mike would probably try to make her breakfast.

The guilt would eat her alive.

Fumbling as she slunk into her underwear in the darkness, she cursed herself for not bothering to gather and fold her clothes the night before. After locating her skirt and blouse, she tiptoed into the hallway, grateful that they hadn’t stopped to turn the lights out the night before. She pulled open the closet and gathered up her coat and handbag. Glancing at her shoes, she decided to put them on in the hallway, avoiding the obvious click of heels against wood that would signal her departure. Reaching for the door handle, she flipped off the hall light. If she couldn’t be honest, the least she could do was save him some money on his utility bill.

Backing into the hallway, Dylan pulled the door shut, then slowly released the handle until she was sure it wouldn’t make a sound in the lock. Exhaling, she turned and glanced across the hall.

A woman who could only be Mrs. Warnly looked at her with disapproval, eyeing the heels in Dylan’s hand. She smiled at the grim-looking woman, who was wearing a roller set and clutching a newspaper. She did not return her smile. Mrs. Warnly knew she’d just left a nice boy sound asleep without so much as a note, and the woman did not approve. Dylan wasn’t sure she could blame her as she crept toward the staircase, shoes still in hand.

Dylan turned into the Technocore parking lot and began the hopeless circle for a parking space, cursing Tim. When the company had moved into its new building, he’d severely miscalculated the number of parking spaces required for the staff. After all, he and the executive team had reserved parking. He didn’t really care if there were only forty spaces for roughly 2,500 employees. Making a mental note to bump the proposed parking-shortage solution up the high-priority list, she swore and started driving toward the surrounding streets to try her luck.

She found a spot, and her tired body groaned as she got out of the car. Earlier in the morning, she’d managed to get back into her parents’ home undetected and sneaked in a power nap before forcing herself out of bed and into the shower. Unfortunately, she still needed about four more hours of sleep before she would feel rested. Clutching the biggest coffee travel mug she could find, Dylan heard her phone ding as she stomped across the damp sidewalk. She felt around the bottom of her purse, anxiety coursing through her body. Would Mike text so soon? She hoped not, because she hadn’t the slightest idea what she would even say.

When she finally located the source of the ding, Nicolas scrolled across the screen. Secretly she was grateful he’d refused to be listed in her phone as Boyfriend or with any sort of heart-based emoji. He said that was demeaning and exclusively appropriate for teenage girls. She disagreed, but it did save her the trouble of having to fix his name in her phone.

Forcing herself not to tap her pointy-toed houndstooth heel as she waited for the elevator, Dylan practiced breathing in and out while consistently checking the number above the elevator door. She’d started to wonder who on the second floor was taking so long to get out of the stupid thing when the door finally opened.