Ira glares at me from behind his desk while I impatiently wait for his response. His brow twinges, only slightly furrowed, meaning he’s annoyed. Or hungry. Or content. It’s hard to tell, really. He always looks like this.

Finally, he exhales. “No,” he answers.

I deflate. “Oh, come on, Ira—”

“I’m not telling you what room a guest is staying in because you want to sleep with her.”

“Hey.” I raise a hand. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks with doubt.

“We have a connection,” I say.

“I’m sure you do.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t.”

“Your beard looks very shiny today,” I say, switching tactics. “New balm?”

“Same as always.” He shifts forward and rests his shoulders on his desk. “You’re still not getting the room number.”

“Dammit.”

“Since when do you not secure an invite back to the room anyway?” he asks, a smirk rising up his cheek. “She reject you or what?”

I scoff. “Absolutely not.”

“Then, why are you stalking her?”

“I’m not stalking her!” I place my palms on his desk. “Listen, she came to me for help.”

“Her first mistake.”

I ignore the jab. “She asked me to pretend to be her boyfriend in front of her crazy family who want her to mate with some dude in an ugly suit.”

He raises a brow. “O-kay...”

“And I, being the saint I am, did just that… in-exchange for a minor fee.”

“You asked her for money?”

“She offered money and I accepted it.”

“Very classy, Hayden.”

“But there was a spark!” I say. “Big spark. Powerful spark. Felt it deep within my…” I gesture a little too far downward before settling on my chest. “Gut.”

“And has she confirmed this powerful spark deep within her own… gut?” he asks.

I pause. “No, I haven’t had the chance to follow up with her yet, but—”

“So, basically, she paid you for a service and instead of taking the money and going away as she likely expects, you want her confidential guest information so you can… what?”

I hesitate. “So that I might rap upon her chamber doors for a little late night… you know.”

Ira nods slowly. “You want to sleep with her.”

“Desperately,” I say.

“Thank you for telling the truth, big brother,” he says. “There’s hope for you yet.”

“So, you’ll tell me her room number?”

He scoffs. “No.”

I push off his desk and glare at him. “Fine.”

Ira chuckles. “She must be very attractive, though,” he says. “If she’s got your panties all riled-up like this.”

“Consider my panties riled and completely soaked through with my wetness.”

“Well, putting that visual image aside…” He stands up and buttons his suit jacket as he walks around his desk. “I am confident in your ability to hit that by striking up a conversation like a normal person. In the meantime, get out of my office. Some of us aren’t on medical leave and have real work to do. Speaking of which, you should be resting and icing. Not stalking poor helpless women.”

“I’m not stalk—” I stand a little taller, stretching my near identical height until I’m a sliver of an inch above him. “And here I thought Graham was the killjoy.”

He studies my face for a moment. “Hayden, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were nervous to see this girl again.”

“Not nervous. Just…” I pause. “She was fun to talk to. I don’t want to screw it up.”

Ira smiles. “Aw. That’s cute.”

I turn toward the door. “Shut up.”

“Hayden’s got an itty bitty crush.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Nah, you’re right,” he teases. “You’re a fierce alpha male who only wants one thing.”

“Yes, I am,” I say.

“Oh, hey. Pro-tip!” He motions to the side with his right arm. “When you spoon after making sweet love to her for the first time, try to slip your bottom arm beneath her pillow. Way more comfortable than shoving it between your bodies and not nearly as degrading as just telling her to leave.”

I roll my eyes and yank the door open. “You know, Ira, one of these days, you will turn to me for help and I will reject you as you have rejected me.”

“Doubt it.” He waves. “Good luck!”

I close his door behind me, swallowing hard as I stumble right on back to square one.

Ira does have a point about something, though. Romance hasn’t always been my forte. Fucking, sure. I have no problems approaching a woman for a good night or two but beyond that…

I never really saw myself as the relationship type of guy. And women haven’t either.

So, why do I feel so weird about Penelope? Why am I hesitant to rely on the same moves I usually use?

Why did it feel so good to hold her hand as the word boyfriend came out of her mouth?

This is ridiculous.

I don’t know a thing about this woman.

I shake my head, banishing the thoughts away as I head down the office wing toward the lobby. My hand runs on auto-pilot, sliding my phone from my pocket and swiping the screen. I tap and tap, desperately opening social media apps to distract myself with a little bit of nothing. A hundred new followers. A couple of friend requests. Little spikes of dopamine to drown out the Penelope haze…

PennyLove818 liked your photo.

I pause my stride. With my back to the wall, I tap the username and hold my breath as the profile loads.

It’s her. Jeez, why didn’t I think to look her up? She definitely thought to look me up…

My stomach clenches. Oh, God, she looked me up.

What else did she find?

Wait — what photo did she like?

I find it quickly and smile. One of my many gym selfies, though… she’s not listed as liking it anymore. Did she undo it? Was it an adorable accident she wanted to bury forever?

I go back to her profile. Penelope Warren. Burbank, California.

I cut hair, is all the profile reads. I chuckle.

She stares back at me from her profile picture. One of those only slightly posed over-the-shoulder pictures with her strawberry blonde hair blowing in the wind in front of an ocean background. Santa Monica Pier, from the looks of it. I know it well.

I scan her photos, my smile widening. Lots of pictures of various hairstyles and salon products. And food. She likes food.

She really likes food.

New shears at work. It’s gonna be a good day.

Tofu tacos 4 life! #vegetariancuisine

Movie night out with @TrudiculousMe! Popcorn emoji. Smiley face. Martini emoji.

A photo of a Las Vegas roadsign. Here we go again… #familyreunion #killme

The view of Las Vegas from her room at the Botsford Plaza. #escape

An office door opens in front of me and I shift off the wall, suddenly noticing the dull twinge in my knee as Oliver steps out.

He sees me and nods. “What’s up, Hayden?”

I clear my throat. “Nothing, just…” I gesture toward where I came. “Kicking the shit with Ira a bit. What’s up with you?”

“Not much.” He closes his office door and tiredly runs a hand through his hair. “Just managing the building, as usual.”

“Awesome.” Lightning strikes between my ears and I cock my head. “Hey, Oli, do you think you could—”

“No,” he answers quickly.

“No?”

“No.”

“No what? I didn’t even finish the question.”

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to know.” He shrugs. “I was told to say no to whatever you wanted today, so no. Sorry, man.”

I grit my teeth. “Dammit, Ira…”

You gossipy bitch.

Oliver continues on toward the lobby. “He also told me to tell you to stay off your knee. So, you know, stay off your knee.”

I grunt a response and follow him down the hall. We emerge from just behind the front desk and I give Rian a quick wave before passing on through toward the elevators.

My hand twitches toward my phone and I swipe it on again while I wait for a lift to arrive.

PennyLove818. She cuts hair, doesn’t eat meat, and lives in Burbank…

Guess I know a little bit more about Penelope Warren now.

But it’s not enough.

The elevator opens and I wait while a few others to step off.

The Warrens have a dinner reservation tonight. Penelope will surely be there, along with a few dozen of her family members… Dylan McCock included…

I step onto the elevator and study my reflection on the wall. A scruffy face. An old t-shirt and ripped jeans…

If I’m going to make an impression, then I’m gonna have to slip into something a little more…

Botsford.