I scan the bustling environment. What seemed exciting earlier now just seems…loud. After rubbing my temple, I drop my hand to catch Tanner watching me.
Before I can paste on another smile, Tanner stops a passing waiter. “Do you mind asking Chef Conti to plate our food in to-go boxes? Our plans have changed.” Tanner throws me a little wink.
A smile blooms across my face without permission. “Tanner, that’s so nice, but we can stay. You were so excited?—”
“Kate, stop.” His eyes are kind. “My priority tonight isyou. Let’s go eat somewhere quieter. I know just the place.”
Thirty minutes later, a stack of take-out boxes dangle in a bag from Tanner’s left hand as we walk down the sidewalk, but he keeps his right hand firmly around mine. His touch is foreign but warm in the frigid air.
“Just up ahead,” he puffs a laugh that clouds instantly. “Sorry, should’ve parked closer.”
“It’s okay,” I chatter.
“Ah.” Tanner steps up to a darkened glass storefront to where a flat-panel lockbox is embedded beside the door. The box numbers light up green after he punches in a series of digits. A mechanical click sounds, and Tanner pulls open the door.
“After you,” he says, following me in and flicking on the lights.
A huge smile breaks over my face.
It’s a gallery space. Oak hardwood floors stretch in the somewhat long and narrow room, but the walls are dotted with breathtaking art. My feet move of their own volition.
“Tanner,” I breathe. “This is gorgeous.”
His smile is boyish but charming. “Thought you’d like it. My friend owns the place. It was either this or Chef Conti’s. Glad I kept it for back-up.” Our laughs echo in the emptiness, but I find myself returning to him and pressing my arms around his waist.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re so very welcome.” There’s a gentleness in his touch, his voice. He bobs his head toward a wood slab countertop. “Come on, we can sit over there.”
I move slower, still captivated by the art and the sentiment that he thought to bring me here. By the time my eyes land on him again, he’s pulling out my stool as steam rises in decadent tendrils from the open boxes. His smile quirks. “Let’s eat, beautiful.”
seventeen
PRESENT DAY
BRANDON
“Isee Kendra’s got you on schmooze duty.” Val chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder as he and Amantha finish climbing the museum steps.
The winter evening is still, blanketed by thick clouds that occasionally flick a fluttering snowflake. One settles into Amantha’s dark blonde hair. She’s twisted it into something way fancier than usual. Val leads Amantha through the heavy door that I hold open for them.
I’m finally over the stupid cold I had last week and am happy to be back to work.I love these events. People turning up to support a good cause gives me more hope in humanity. And I can’t deny that I’m excited to see Kate. A week is too long to go without annoying her. Yeah, I know she went on a date last weekend, but there’s zero chance that guy makes it to the second round. Even we didn’t last very long together—only about two months.
She made sure of that.
A tiny crease appears between Val’s brows. Most people wouldn’t notice the minute change in his expression, but Val and I have gotten somewhat close over the last six months. Friendly enough to know when each other’s climate changes, at least. He must be reading my expression, too.
So I slide on a cocky grin like a familiar worn t-shirt. “Yeah, I’mKendra’s right-hand man for the whole Historic Scavenger Hunt. Wouldn’t want to waste a face like this on coat duty, would we?”
“At least no one can say you aren’t confident.” Amantha laughs. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s admirable.” Her voice is soft and tinkly, though there are pools of mischief in her gray eyes. “Has Kate arrived yet? Thanks to you and Val running it all, we technically have the night off. But she said she was coming anyway.”
My smile spreads like butter in a hot pan. “Not yet. But I’ll let you know when she does. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
Val stiffens at the word “pretty,” and his look of warning hits me in the face.
I tip an apologetic shrug, and he gives an exasperated chuckle. Flirting is my first language, and it’s surprisingly hard to turn off sometimes.
Val turns back to his fiancée, takes the coat covering Amantha’s purple dress, and walks to the circulation desk where Rick stands waiting beside a coat rack. Rick’s blue jumpsuit has been swapped for a suit and crimson necktie. His gray hair sticks up like a crazed concert pianist, and he tosses a grin at me. I wave back.
