It all becomes clear right then and there. He shakes his head. “She never works before twelve and she would never miss an appointment.” My left brow lifts slightly, and I grin. “She your girl?” His white skin turns as pink as his polo, and he defends, “no!” “But you want her to be.” “She’s my friend, that’s all,” he swears, as if it really matters. “I bet you’ve got your friend’s number.” I cock my head and I think he might be ready to hyperventilate. “Can you tell her to come here, now? I need—” Shit. I can’t tell him and risk my eligibility. “I need to talk to her. Quick.”
