“Waiting on you, love,” I stand up, looking down on her, daring her to challenge me with the moniker I’ve been freely giving her. She won’t, of course, too afraid of the answer.
“Then let’s shake our asses.”
I laugh, leaning down to kiss her before taking her hand and leading her out the door of our suite. It’s a sunny day, but only in the mid-sixties. Chilly, considering what we’ve been used to, but nice to walk around in.
We’re only here the rest of today and tomorrow, so our plan is to explore near our hotel today and do Golden Gate Park tomorrow. We also have reservations for dinner, and I know Katie wants to hit up a particular bar tonight, so I think we’ll do that after.
Walking hand in hand through Chinatown, Katie is the most animated I’ve seen her yet. She’s talking constantly and pointing at a million different things.
She likes it here.
I can tell.
And for every positive thing she points out about the city, I find myself saying something negative. I realize it’s a dick move, but I can’t seem to help myself.
I just made some comment about the exorbitant cost of living when she stops me in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up at me with an expression I cannot read. Then without warning, she jumps up into my arms as I reflexively reach out to catch her. I’m laughing as I adjust her ridiculously light weight in my hands so that I’m holding her up by her ass—yup, I’m a pig like that.
Her arms are wrapped around my neck, and she’s looking at me with a contemplative expression. “You don’t want me to move here.”
It’s not a question, but I feel the need to respond anyway. “No.”
“You want me to move to Seattle,” she tilts her head, trying to read my face. Her platinum blonde hair glowing in the sun.
Again it’s not a question, but I answer her without hesitation. “Yes.”
She doesn’t smile, and I can’t seem to read what she’s thinking, which is not the norm for her. After a beat of staring into each other’s eyes, she leans into my ear and whispers, “What if I don’t like Seattle?”
“You will,” I tell her simply.
She pulls back to look at me and a wry smile is pulling at the corner of her mouth. Leaning in, she kisses me hard before wiggling herself free and standing on the sidewalk again.
“It is rather expensive to live here,” is all she says, taking my hand and pulling me on. There’s not much more I can say on the subject after that.
We spent hours roaming around, which was incredible. After our mini moment in the street, I stopped making disparaging comments and just enjoyed how cool the city is. It’s really something else.
Streetcars and old Victorian-style houses and buildings, the ridiculous hills. I think my favorite was Chinatown. Katie’s too.
We took a long nap and ate dinner in our previously appointed restaurant—again, thanks, Claire—before heading over to the bar Katie had heard about.
It is in a converted warehouse, so it’s essentially a large open space with sky-high ceilings and exposed piping. Very trendy, with a heavy bass beat in the background as well as black mood lighting and candles. The bar takes up an entire wall with more shelves of alcohol than I’ve ever seen.
Katie spots a tiny place to sit off to the right, and goes to snag it while I get us a couple of drinks.
I finally manage to get the attention of the bartender and order Katie’s apple martini and my whiskey when I feel hands sliding up my back. I spin around with a smile on my lips expecting it to be Katie, but it’s not.
It’s Francesca.
My smile dies instantly.
“Ryan Grant,” she purrs, her dark eyes eating me up from top to bottom and then back again. “Fancy seeing you here. You look amazing. I like the beard.” Liar, is the main thought that filters through my mind before, what the fuck?
She looks good too, but I’m not about to say that to her.
Her dark, stick-straight hair is down her back, and she’s wearing the smallest of dresses that show off her curvy figure. As always she has on more makeup than I like, but that too looks good on her.
No doubt that Francesca is a beautiful woman, but she pales in comparison to Katie. It’s not even a contest.
“Hello, Francesca. Nice to see you.” It’s not. That was a lie, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“What are you doing in San Fran? I know you didn’t fly here,” she muses as if my newfound fear of flying is comical. She was not the most attentive or nurturing after the accident, and that alone should have tipped me off to the type of person that she is.
“I’m traveling with someone. What about you?” And why is the bartender taking forever to make our drinks?
“I’m here for business, of course,” she says as if I should already know. Then she leans into me, running her hand up my chest. “I’ve missed you.”
I take her hand and pull it away from me, trying to extricate myself from her venomous clutches.
Francesca takes a step back, and as she does, her eyes widen before her expression turns superior and calculating. A small hand curls around my bicep, and I look down into Katie’s sweet, smiling face.
She looks stunning in an ice-blue dress that brings out the color of her eyes, and dips low enough to give me the greatest view of her perfect cleavage. The only makeup Katie has on is eyelash shit, something that makes her cheeks glow, and lip gloss.
And she blows Francesca out of the water.
“That seat that I found for us was already taken,” she says, either oblivious to Francesca’s presence or ignoring it entirely. “It was too small for you, anyway. I would have had to sit on your lap in my tiny dress.” I can feel Francesca stiffen, that’s how close she is to us, before Katie’s eyes turn in her direction. “Oh sorry,” Katie grins at her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Francesca’s dark eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Katie and then she reaches out a perfectly manicured hand. “It’s not a problem. I’m Francesca. Ryan’s ex-girlfriend,” she purrs like it’s a badge of honor. Does she not get the ex part?
“I’m Kate,” Katie smiles, shaking her hand, before tilting her head to the side like she’s thinking long and hard about this. It’s an act. I know it is, but it’s also driving Francesca wild that Katie didn’t instantly admit to recognizing her name. “Francesca?” she muses. “Oh right.” She looks up to me. “You mentioned her once, I think.”
Francesca is fuming, and since she majored in bitch, I’m a little worried as to where this is headed.
“Well, I’m sure you haven’t known Ryan all that long, since I’ve never heard of you.”
I laugh, running my hand around Katie’s tiny waist, pulling her into my side and kissing the corner of her mouth. “I’ve technically known Katie since I was ten and she was six, but we didn’t reunite until recently. Anyway, it was nice seeing you again, Francesca.” I turn my back to her and face Katie full on. “Don’t worry about the seat,” I shrug. “It’s fine. Though the thought of you sitting on my lap all night in that dress does sound good,” I smile, kissing her irresistible lips again. Her damn gloss tastes like raspberries. “The bartender is backed up, but our drink order is in the queue.”