My hands fly to my ears, but I can’t unhear it.

“Shh! You can’t tell me.”

“I just did,” he says, his voice void of feeling.

“I didn’t ask you,” I snap back, my irritation growing at his lack of consideration.

He shrugs. “I don’t have time to sit here and wait for you to finish.”

“Is that what you say to all the ladies? What a charmer,” I say in a huff. “I was almost there. I was going to get it.” My desire to be at this event with Barrett is diminishing by the minute and we haven’t even gone in yet.

Marcus opens my door and I climb out, tossing my phone and the unfinished WordIt game in my clutch. I’d rather end my one-hundred-ninety-seven-day win streak than use Barrett’s tip to finish the game.

Outside the car, Barrett takes my hand. My wrist is limp, barely holding on.

“You are horrible. I can’t believe you did that,” I bite out as we walk up three elongated, red-carpeted stairs before entering the door of the art deco style building.

“It’s a word game.” He waves to someone on the red carpet they’ve set up outside the venue and guides us into the line. “Relax.”

“Says the man who is as rigid as a cement block,” I retort.

Inside, there’s a backdrop with the Top Dog charity logo, along with its top sponsors, where guests are taking photos.

Barrett drops my hand to place his on my lower back and moves us into line. My backless dress makes our contact skin to skin. Surprisingly his touch isn’t rigid. It’s warm and firm, his palm applying slight pressure into my spine, and I’d give anything to be somewhere I could smack his hand away. But, we’re up next, the couple in front of us moving from the X in front of the backdrop so we can proceed.

We smile for the cameras, Barrett’s arm around my waist, pulling me in close. The second we make it into the screening tent to check in, I step out of his reach. He doesn’t bother to address my rebuff.

A woman checks us in and gives us our silent auction bidding numbers and dining table number, then we move into a side room for cocktails. My heels are new and I’m struggling a bit, the balls of my feet absorbing the pounding of the hard marble floor, but when Barrett offers his arm, I push past him.

“Chloe,” he hisses in my ear, grabbing my elbow to keep me in place. “Do I need to remind you why you’re here?”

“No.” I give him my coolest stare. “I’m aware. But I don’t want to spend one more second with you than I have to.”