Page 156 of The Heartbreaker for Hire

Of course. Even the makeup artist had an opinion about Damon Lockhart.

“Yep,” I said quietly.

“I saw you two at the pier. You make a beautiful couple.”

Couple. Such a simple word. Such a devastating one.

“He seems like a smitten kitten.”

So he said. Last night. If that was the case, I was going to need someone to explain why he hadn't said anything about what happened after tomorrow.

Then again, neither had I. Because bringing it up meant admitting I wanted there to be an after. And that would open up a big can of worms.

I was Mikayla Parsons. I didn't do cans of worms. I did calculated risks. Projections. Contingency plans. Exhaustive research before purchasing a new coffee maker.

I did not fall hopelessly in love with a charming cowboy who had never had a serious relationship.

And yet. Here I was. One day away from going home. One day away from waking up in my own bed without Damon beside me. One day away from losing the best thing that had happened to me in a very long time.

Tiffany’s hand stilled. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” I assured her.

“Your eyes are watering,” she pointed out.

“Allergies.”

Her nose scrunched. “To what?”

“Emotions.”

Julissa chuckled beside me as she handed me a tissue. I dabbed at my eyes with it. This was insane.

I had survived hostile negotiations, economic downturns, and an attempted corporate takeover. Surely I could survive one charming cowboy. Even if he did have the kind of smile that made my knees weak. Even if he knew exactly how I took my coffee. Even if he made me feel more like myself than anyone I'd ever known.

Fuck.

I was so screwed.