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as I pull out of my silent reverie.
    “What?” I ask, showing him how puzzled I am. What were we even talking about?
    He blows out a breath while propping his elbows on his knees.
    “I'm supposed to go out with another nice girl tonight, but I can't. I have something else that I really need to take care of. Something big. But you know how Ash is. She'll ask a thousand questions if I call and cancel, because they're planning to meet me at Silk in thirty minutes. Sorry for the short notice, but I need to take care of this, so I need you to go in my place.”
    The humor that was in his face earlier has been washed away by something else. He looks tense, and he's a little pale.
    “What's going on?” I ask, all my humor fleeing as well.
    “Something I don’t feel like talking about. Will you go on the date in my place? I'll fill you in later if anything comes of this. Ash will let me off the hook a little easier if you're there.”
    I nod as he stands, and I stand, too.
    “You know you can call if you need me,” I say lamely.
    Wren didn't even look this defeated when he and Erica got divorced. It has me worried.
    “I know. And I will call. But only after I have details. Try to have fun. Maybe this girl allows four-lettered words,” he says, forcing a smile.
    I puff out a laugh as he walks out, and then I dial Tag.
    “You'd better not have fucked up my wife's car,” he says distractedly, the keys of a laptop rattling in the background.
    “Your wife's car is still getting fucked up as we speak,” I say mildly, earning a small laugh from him. “Looks like I'm filling in for Wren tonight.”
    The keyboard rattling stops, and Tag lets out a sigh that tells me he knows more than I do. That sucks. I know they're closer, but Wren and I are close enough for him to trust me with this. I’ve trusted him with all my fucked-up shit, and there’s nothing he could tell me that would even come close to what he knows about me.
    “He said he was going to get someone to take his place because he doesn't want Ash knowing anything is going on. I don't think this girl is really your type, so you'll have to work hard to play nice.”
    “What the hell does that mean?” I ask, closing the door to my office.
    At least I was able to shower the glitter off me—mostly. I'm thankful the locker rooms I had installed have awesome showers. And I'm also glad that I had a few changes of clothes on hand for the sake of an emergency.
    This girl will have to deal with jeans and a T-shirt. I don't have time to go home and change.
    “Here,” I say, handing Jessica—my assistant—the donuts. “Take these to the house across the street from me and leave them with a girl named Maggie.”
    She nods as she walks away, and I return my attention Tag. “Well,” I prompt when he still doesn't answer.
    “Sorry. I was trying to get this email typed and sent before leaving. What I meant was, this girl isn't a Victoria's Secret supermodel.”
    Ah. “So she's a dog.”
    He chuckles as I climb in my car. I have it cranked and moving down the road as he instructs his workers about what to do next. The suspense is killing me. At this rate, I'll be at Silk before he can answer.
    “No,” he says at last. He's closer to Dane's famous club than I am. It’s too early to be at a damn club. It’ll be hard to give the girl the slip when she gets on my nerves if the club is empty.
    “Care to elaborate?” I ask as he talks business a second longer.
    “Sorry. It's crazy this week. But she's not a dog. She's cute, but that's it. She's sweet and possibly too nice for you.”
    Too nice for me? I play that over in my head, trying to decide if I should be offended or not.
    “What the hell does that mean?” I growl, deciding to be offended.
    “That means you like the wild ones, and this girl is the definition of... well, sweet. She's not the kind of girl who is going to tie you up and steal your wallet in the middle of the night. She's going to make you breakfast