I pick up my purse and stroll to the door. “I will. I’ve had considerable interest from other teams.”
“Oh, Kate. You have to say that.”
I laugh. “I do. But in this case, it’s true.”
I feel good about that discussion, reflecting on it as I stroll along Sixth Avenue. I consider taking the subway home, but it’s a nice afternoon so I keep walking, window shopping. Impulsively, I pop into Zara to check out spring clothes. I quickly fall in love with a short, flowy dress in my favorite shades of blue. I rarely wear dresses, but this one is so pretty. I can afford a new dress…
I try it on and love it even more. Okay, sold.
I also end up with a pair of strappy sandals. They have a nice heel, not too high, but pretty.
I swing my bag as I continue strolling downtown, making another stop at a market to pick up a few things I need—cheese, coffee, a big salad for dinner. Then I turn and go a couple of blocks out of my way so I can pass by Washington Square Park, all pretty and green and cool, filled with people lying on the grass and kids playing. I stop at the dog park and scan the area. Oh, there they are!
I spot Milo and Rosie. They’re usually here at this time of day, which is often when I go for a run if I don’t have meetings. I love dogs, and I’ve stopped by to pet them so many times, they know me now. Probably because I bring treats.
I fish the plastic bag out of my purse and go into the park to greet them. They bound toward me as soon as I call them. I wave at their owners, sitting on a bench over by the fence, and they wave back.
I make them sit and give them the treats. Milo likes crunchy ones, Rosie prefers soft ones. Then I rub their heads. “You are so good,” I say. “Are you having fun?”
They bounce up and down then take off, Rosie chasing Milo, running for the pure joy of it. There’s one more dog I sometimes see here, but it looks like Lucky’s not here today.
I leave the park and trace my steps back along the sidewalk toward my place.
I need to update Hunter on what I’ve been doing. I know he’s anxious about this situation. So maybe it’s time to take him up on that offer of a drink and go over a few things. Unless he’s gone back to Calgary? He didn’t say exactly when he was leaving, and he doesn’t need to be here.
I wait until I’m in my apartment with my shoes kicked off to call him.
“Hey, Kate.”
“Hi. How are you?”
“I’m okay. You?”
“Good, good. Are you still in town?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Okay. I thought you might have gone home to Calgary. You said you were going to.”
“I am, but I kind of wanted to stay and get this sorted out.”
“It might not happen that quickly,” I caution him. “You need to go ahead and live your life. Go see your family. Go surfing.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Well, since you’re here, I thought we could meet up and go over a few things. I can update you on what I’ve been doing.”
“Yeah.” His tone becomes more enthusiastic. “Sure. Tonight? Where?”
I smile. “Tonight’s fine. Are you okay coming to Manhattan?”
“Of course.”
We discuss his route and I suggest meeting at the Golden Bottle Tequileria. He takes note of it and we agree to see each other there at seven.
Okay.
A little squiggle works through my belly at the idea of seeing Hunter again.
He’s a client. Calm your tits, girl.
My tits are a little excited. Pressing my hands to my boobs, I sit at my desk and stare at my computer. I’ve got a bunch of emails to deal with and I need to update my spreadsheets. I’ve been focused a lot on Hunter, but he’s not my only client whose contract is up, and I’m still eager to sign Van Halston, so I have to stay on that.
After a couple hours more work, I head to the bedroom to change and get ready. My new dress is still in the shopping bag. I should wear it. Why not?
I hang it up, but it’s not the kind of fabric that creases so I think it’s okay. I’ve never been one to wear a lot of makeup, but I put on eyeshadow, mascara, and blush earlier for my meeting and I think it still looks okay. I swipe a brush over a highlighter compact and light up my cheekbones a little, then smooth on lip gloss. I brush and fluff my hair, change into the dress, and even slip on the new sandals. I think I can handle walking a few blocks in these heels.
About a half hour later I’m at the Golden Bottle in Hell’s Kitchen. Hunter is standing inside the entrance waiting for me. His eyes brighten when he sees me, his face creasing up into a smile. “Hey!”
“Hi.” I smile too, stepping inside.
His gaze wanders downward, taking in my dress and bare legs. He blinks. “You look…fantastic.”
“Thanks.” Repeating the compliment sounds fake, so I don’t, but he does look good in a black button-down shirt over dark jeans, topped with a black leather jacket.
The hostess arrives with a smile and I gather Hunter has already spoken to her since she takes us straight back to a table. The noise at the front of the restaurant near the bar is raucous, but back here it’s quieter. I hang up my light coat and take a seat at the table for two. The place is dark, with lots of worn wood, exposed bricks, and ornate gold chandeliers providing a little light.
“Remember that tequila tasting we did in Cancun?” Hunter says as we pick up menus.
The air goes static against my skin. I keep my eyes on the menu as my insides tighten. I don’t want to remember Cancun!
Why the hell did I pick a Mexican place? Damn, I’m an idiot.
“Yes,” I say calmly. “That was very educational.”
He laughs. “We all got hammered.”
“That was pretty much the entire trip,” I say dryly.
“I do remember some of what we learned.” He studies the menu. “Let’s get the Casamigos.”
“Mmm. Okay.” I need to stay sober. This is a business meeting. But I can handle a shot of tequila, I guess.
Only, when he orders and the drinks arrive, they’re not just a shot. They’re a glassful.
“It’s sipping tequila.” Hunter lifts his glass to admire the amber liquid.
“Right.” I take a deep breath and sip. “Oh.” I let the taste spread over my palate. “It’s smooth.”
He nods with satisfaction. “Yeah.”
“I taste…caramel and vanilla.”
“That’s why I like it. Also, oak.”
I take another sip. “Yes.”
Our eyes meet, sharing amusement at our tasting notes.
We figure out what to eat, starting with a trio of guacamoles and chips, then we’re left alone.
“Okay,” Hunter says. “What’s happening?”
I grin. “Don’t get excited. This is a slow process. But I’m working, I assure you. I’ve spent hours on the phone, and today I met with Brad Julian.”
His face falls. “Brad Julian? From the Bears?”
“Yes.”
He stares at me. “I’m not playing for that team.”
9
Kate
What?