“Where are we?” I leaned forward between the driver and passenger seat of the cab. A line of people snaked their way down the path in front of the building.
We got out of the taxi and Hunter jogged up the steps, slapping hands with the security guard at the front of the line before walking in like there weren’t fifty people staring daggers at us. Who needed a former celebrity when you had Hunter?
Instead of stopping at the check-in counter like everyone else, we took the elevator up to the third floor. There were bays filled with groups of people at low-backed couches and high tables, drinking, eating, and golfing. Golfing?
“This wasn’t what I thought you meant when you said out for a drink.”
“I like to mix things up.”
We ordered food and drinks and got set up. While Hunter was pulled away to schmooze, I grabbed my phone.
Me: Hey Zara, are you at home?
Gingersnap: No, I’m out.
On a date? Was she out with someone else right now?
Gingersnap: Having fun?
Gingersnap: Not in the slightest.
I let out the breath that had caught in my chest. At least it was a shitty date. Not that I wanted her to put up with an asshole, but the thought of her out with some guy with his hands all over her made me want to punch something. Namely the fuckwit who thought he could go out with my fake fiancée in the first place.
A moment of indecision rushed through me before I tapped her name.
“Bad date?” I said, before she could even say hello. But it was the question I needed answered, even if I didn’t want to know at the same time.
“If only. I’d rather be on a date with Hannibal Lecter than where I am.” A spark of laughter ran through her words.
“Where the hell are you?”
“I was at a symphony cocktail reception for corporate sponsors.”
“Lucky you. That sounds drier than a box of Saltines in the Sahara.”
“I’ve already fallen asleep standing up twice. Are you at a club?”
“It’s a driving range nightclub combo, Vertex Golf.”
“It opened recently, right? Ads were all over the radio.”
“Opening night was tonight.”
Her words were whisper quiet. “Are you on a date?”
Why did it make me so damn happy she’d even asked? I suppressed my smile. “In a way.”
“How’s your date feel about you calling me in the middle of it?” Her words were a little clipped.
“I’m sure they’d be fine with it. They’d probably want you to join us.”
She gasped. “Don’t even—”
“I let Hunter talk me into coming out with him. We’re shooting a few buckets of balls.”
“Oh! Thank him again for getting the ring.”
“Why are you working tonight?”
“After the reception, I remembered there were some things I forgot to do in the office, so I’m currently being blinded by a copy machine and getting paper cuts that’ll last until next year.” She sighed, her weariness coming through the call. “My boss’s daughter doesn’t want to do anything that’s not one hundred percent fun all the time, so I’m stuck here.”
She worked harder than anyone I knew, including quarterbacks who have multiple championship rings.
“I’ve got some news to make it easier to get through your night.”
“Lay it on me.”
A particular part of my anatomy jumped at the sleepy, sultry tone of her voice and phrase.
“Hunter had an extra ticket to the Without Grey concert tomorrow and I wanted to know if you were up for it?”
“What? Hell, yes!”
I jerked the phone away from my ear.
“Shit, I’m in trouble.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Yes, that’s amazing. Text me the details and I’ll be there. Thank you and thank Hunter again.” She ended the call.
He showed up with two beers, sliding me one.
I chose the dartboard version of golf. My thoughts kept drifting back to Zara. Was she still in the office? How was her stomach after her night of adventurous eating? Could I help her fix her place up without her threatening me with bodily harm?
“You’d be winning right now, if you were paying attention to what you were doing.” Hunter’s voice pulled me out of my Zara-filled thoughts.
The scores were almost tied up.
“You’ve always got tricks up your sleeve?” I took a swig from my beer, lifting the driver out of the golf bag.
“Nah, you’re going to want this one.” He handed over a 3-wood. “Of course, I need to keep things exciting. Making an appearance at their grand opening is a favor I’m doing.”
I lined up my shot. Outside of a few ‘celebrity’ tournaments, my golf experience was lackluster to say the least. “You showing up here is a favor? How are you connected with this place?” Keeping my head down, I followed through with my shot, connecting with the ball. It sailed through the air and landed in the outermost ring of the net target. A point appeared on the computer screen tracking our progress.
Hunter shrugged, tugging on the bottom of the rolled sleeve of his button-down shirt. He gave Everest a run for his money in the well put together department. But Hunter was scrappier than Everest could be. He didn’t ooze money, but he could wear the look like a coat depending on what circles he was around, and I had no doubt they were varied. “You meet people and things happen.”
“Only for you. I’ve never met someone who could wheel and deal like you. You were the campus dealer, weren’t you?”
He laughed into his beer. “Sort of.” Grabbing his club, he took his spot at the ball dispenser and set up his shot. It made mine look like I should’ve broken out the Little Tykes plastic play set. The ball blasted off the platform. I couldn’t even track it, but the computer told me all I needed to know.
A damn bullseye.
He holstered the club like the lethal weapon it was in his hands, and grabbed one of the sliders off the table in our low seating area. Club music vibrated the floor beneath our feet.
“How’s it feel no longer being a pro athlete?” He lounged on the seat with his arms along the back edge.
I stood for my turn. “Weird as fuck. I can’t even lie. I’ve spent the last twenty-one years of my life devoted to football. From pee-wee leagues up until five months ago, I lived and breathed football. Every off season I was in the gym keeping up my conditioning. My singular goal was to make it pro. The odds were against me, but I was determined. Gave it my all in every practice…
“And now it’s all gone.”
“This is why I’ve never dedicated my life to a singular purpose. I like to spread the love.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“That’s why you’re thinking of the sports TV thing.”
“It was an idea, but I figured it was a long shot.”
“Not entirely.” Hunter wolfed down half his quesadilla.
Sitting on the edge of my seat, I was seconds away from giving him the Heimlich, just to get him to spit it out. “You haven’t said anything about it.”
“I don’t like to confirm anything until I’m sure. Pieces are working in the background, and I’m close.”