My skin was still warm from Beckett’s touch.
My phone jangled, and I shifted the leashes to one hand to fish it from the pocket of my coat.
“What’s up, Sloane?”
“I’m at the Inn. She’s here!”
“What?” My mind was still replaying Beckett kneeling between my legs, his tongue doing wicked things, my hands tangled in his hair.
“She checked in under a fake name, but it’s her.” Sloane’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m following her down the hall right now!”
I jerked Aslan’s leash as he attempted to chase a squirrel. “Who?”
“Miranda Lockhart.”
My body went rigid, frozen to the spot on the trail. The dogs pulled on the leashes, confused by my erratic behavior. I’d nearly forgotten about Miranda Lockhart. That’s what Beckett had done to me.
“I’m looking at her right now,” Sloane whispered.
The dogs yanked me forward. “What does she look like?” Miranda Lockhart on paper was sophisticated and sexy with every shiny hair in place. Was she that perfect in person?
“Gorgeous.” Sloane was breathing hard, as if she’d been running. “She’s wearing Diane von Furstenburg and Jimmy Choo.” There was a pause as Sloane said something to someone else. “She’s getting in the elevator,” she reported, breathless. “When can you get up here?”
I checked my watch. I could finish up my walk, run home for a quick shower, and drive to the Inn. “Give me an hour.”
“She has to come out of her room sometime.” The smile in Sloane’s voice could be heard clear to my end of the line. “And when she does, we’ll be waiting.”
It washour three of our stakeout. My butt was sore from sitting on the barstool, but I wasn’t budging until I laid eyes on Miranda Lockhart.
“She has to come out eventually.” Sloane rested her chin on her fist and fixed her eyes on the lobby. “She can’t stay in her room all night.”
It was Friday night, and the hotel bar at the Inn was busy. The last time I’d been in here, it hadn’t ended well for me. But it had brought me closer to Beckett, so… there was that.
Sloane and I trained our eyes on the lobby. Guests flowed in and out while we munched on peanuts and sipped water.
“Maybe she’s writing.” I popped a peanut into my mouth and crunched.
Sloane groaned. “Don’t say that.”
“The food is excellent. I’m sure her room is comfortable. She has everything she needs to stay in her room until the event.” I glanced down at the book on the counter. A contemporary romance about best friends who became lovers,Heaven on Earthwas my favorite Miranda Lockhart book. I imagined her signature on the title page and felt dizzy. Maybe someday it would sit on a shelf in my permanent residence. “I hope she’s writing,” I said. “I don’t want to have to wait another year for her next release.”
Sloane pushed the bowl of peanuts away from her. “Take these away from me. If I keep eating, I won’t be hungry for dinner with Ben.”
“I thought his name was Chris.”
She winced. “I’m never going out with him again.”
“What did he do?” Sloane had the worst track record with men.
“He brought his mother on our date.”
I laughed. “Did you ever hear back from Marcus?”
Sloane shook her head. “I deleted his contact.” She grabbed her phone and swiped her finger across the screen. “But I did save that video of Beckett carrying you off. Want to see it again?”
“No.”
“I do.” She tapped her screen. “It’sso romantic. And I’mso bored.”
