The rest of our lunch conversation is lighter, more impersonal—things we like to do in New York. We both love theater and restaurants and music. We both love the energy and the diversity of the city and the different neighborhoods. I’m not much into museums or galleries, but I’m open to checking them out. And we both have a weird fondness for the subway, dirty and crowded as it can be.
“You see the strangest things,” Lilly says, holding another French fry. “The most interesting people. And it’s so strange, thinking that you’re riding through all these tunnels and the whole city is above you. I love the old-fashioned, European feel of Grand Central Terminal.”
“Yeah! That’s what I thought too—it reminded me of Europe. I played in hockey tournaments there, in Germany and Italy.”
“Cool.”
Our server offers dessert and when we decline brings the check. We keep talking about travel—places we’ve been, places we want to go. Then Lilly reaches for her phone and checks the time. “Oops! I better go. I have to pick up Apollo soon.”
I reach for the check at the same time she does, but I wave her off. I wouldn’t let her pay anyway, but knowing more about her financial situation I’m definitely buying lunch. Happily, she doesn’t argue, instead smiling and saying. “Thank you. Lunch was great.”
It was.
Out on the sidewalk, she pulls her mitts on. One end of her scarf is loose, so I take it and loop it around her neck. “Which way are you going?”
She points down Broadway, the opposite direction of my place.
“Okay. You’ll take Otis out on Saturday?” That’s our next game, here at home.
“Yes.” She nods firmly.
“Great.” I don’t move. I don’t know when I’ll see her again.
“Thanks again for lunch.” She doesn’t move either. For a moment we watch each other, and I feel like I’m resisting a physical pull as I take a step backward. She takes a step back too.
“Bye.”
“Bye, Easton.”
We each take another step. Finally I give my head a mental shake, grin, and lift my hand in a wave. Jesus, man, get a grip.
I stride along the sidewalk. Fuck, what is wrong with me? Not only am I getting attached to a dog, I’m getting all sappy over a woman. I know better than that.
What I need is some good fucking.
Problem is, I keep thinking about fucking Lilly.
Chapter 10
Lilly
It’s girls’ night out at the Hungry Dog Lounge in the East Village. We’re going to play Skee-Ball and drink cocktails and eat pizza.
Carlin and I take the subway and meet up with Maya and Adriana at the bar. It’s Thursday night and the place is jumping. We make our way through the noisy crowd and find a high-top table with only three stools.
I glance around and spy a table with a couple of guys and an empty stool. I slide over there. “Hey,” I say with a smile. “Are you guys using this stool?”
They smile back at me.
“You can have it, but you have to sit here with us,” one guy says.
I laugh. They’re teasing me. “I can’t ditch my friends, though.” I gesture at the others nearby with a mock sad face.
“Not even for us?” He gives me a flirty smile.
He’s cute.
But I’m not interested.
Dammit, why not?
“You can take it,” the other guy says kindly.
“Thanks.” I lift the stool and carry it over to our table.
“What was that about?” Maya asks.
“I almost had to sit with them.” I slide onto the stool.
“You should have.” Carlin eyes them. “They’re both hot.”
“I know.” I sigh. “But it’s girls’ night. Right?”
“Chicks before dicks,” Maya says.
“I’m not interested in dick anyway.” I wave a hand.
“Except that of a certain hockey player,” Carlin says.
All eyes turn to me.
“What?” I stare back at them.
“You seem to be developing a little crush on Easton Millar,” Carlin says.
“I am not!”
“You talk about him all the time.”
“I talk about his dog. He’s a client.”
“Suuuure.”
“We need to meet this guy,” Maya says. She pulls out her phone. With a few swipes, she has Easton’s team headshot on her screen. She nods approvingly. “Okay, I get it.” She shows the phone to Adriana, then Carlin.
“You two had lunch together yesterday,” Carlin points out.
Again, Maya and Adriana give me wide eyes.
“It was just lunch.” I raise my hands.
A waitress arrives at our table. I order a draft beer and the others order cocktails. Drinks come with a free pizza, making this a great place for someone broke like me to hang out.
“And I have another New York Bears client,” I tell them. “I’ll be walking Loki for Colton Gunnerson. He’s their goalie.”
“That’s great!” Maya nods. “Is he single?”
“He lives with his girlfriend. She’s a Victoria’s Secret model.”
“Ah.”
“And I got two more emails today from potential clients.” It seems like my addition of “Easton Millar, forward for the New York Bears, says Lilly at Walk ’n Wag genuinely loves her clients and provides convenient and responsive care” has helped get me some attention. I have to make sure and thank him for that.
“Congratulations!” Adriana gives me her sweet smile. “You’re killing this.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. But I’m glad I’m getting more jobs.”
Our drinks arrive. Adriana picks hers up. “To Walk ’n Wag.”
We all toast. I’m feeling pretty good today. Things are looking up. Also, I keep remembering how Easton looked at me yesterday, during our lunch when his eyes were warm and his smile flirty, and after when our eyes locked and neither of us wanted to move away. I got all heated and tingly and practically floated all the way to Apollo’s home.
It’s been a while since I felt like that. I felt…desired. Appreciated. Like I was the focus of all Easton’s attention. And that attention was…exciting.