Belle threw the wipe away in a nearby garbage can while Kendra spoke to the hostess. The access road was lined with restaurants, most full with patrons enjoying the fine weather. Sun in the pacific northwest was hit and miss. People tended to flock outside at the first sign of good weather. Her phone dinged and Belle pulled it from her pocket.
EE: Good morning.
Her pulse picked up and not from the run. She tried not to grin too wide. He’s your client. He’s your client. He’s your client. If she said it enough times, perhaps she’d believe it. Too bad her body wasn’t buying into her mind’s reality.
BK: Did you get my email about Ellen foods and the blueberry shakes?
Kendra touched her arm to gain her attention. Belle followed her friend to a table, hobbling, the ankle still throbbing more than she liked. Heels were a requirement for the show, sexist and antiquated but she’d signed a contract with a dress code.
The restrictions weren’t the hardest thing to deal with. That would be Erik, of course.
An umbrella shaded two of the four seats at the small outdoor table and she took the seat next to Kendra. Her foot tight in her shoe, she wiggled her toes and answered a different text from Howler. He’d been understanding about the show. A good thing. She should have checked in with him before agreeing but it had been spur of the moment. And hard to resist Erik. Again, she was back full circle.
EE: What’s wrong with your ankle?
She frowned at the text, unsure if she was reading it right. How did he know about her ankle? Was he stalking her? Granted he’d come on strong but she thought it was a façade.
BK: How do you know about my ankle?
EE: Because I’m sitting at the Indian restaurant across from you.
Relief shot through her. Paranoid much? She snapped her head up and squinted, searching out the patrons in the Indian restaurant.
“Who are you texting?” Kendra asked.
The waiter delivered a couple of glasses of water and Kendra ordered two lemonades and chips and guacamole.
Belle waited until the waiter left before she answered. “Erik is over at the Indian place.” Crap. This wasn’t good. What if someone saw them in the same proximity and put two and two together?
“Oh, really. Where? I, oh never mind, I see him. Oh, and who’s the hottie with him?” Kendra asked, removing her sunglasses and staring openly.
Shoulder–length coffee-colored hair and tan skin, Cash had hazel eyes to die for. Another talented athlete with a promising long-term career. Unlike Erik, he was quiet and low-key. He wasn’t Kendra’s type at all but it would be a waste of Belle’s breath to point that out. Some things people had to learn for themselves.
“Looks like Cash Renner, the center for the Pioneers,” Belle said, taking a long drink of water. If she got all of Walter’s old clients, he’d be another player she’d represent. First, she had to get through Fiancé with Erik and prove that she was ready for more responsibility. Howler wanted to ease her into the position and she didn’t want to let him down.
“Yummy, nice body,” Kendra said, waving without an ounce of hesitation. “Would you introduce me?”
A natural flirt, Kendra was a female version of Erik. She never took things seriously, and dated a lot. Neither were relationship material. Belle was beginning to think she wasn’t either. Otherwise, wouldn’t she date more?
“No, I can’t introduce you,” Belle said. Playing matchmaker with her friend and a potential client was another complication she didn’t want.
“Oh, Cash waved back. Nice.” Kendra ran a thumb along the lip of her water glass, excitement in her eyes. “We should go over and say hi.”
“You can go over and say hi. I can’t be seen with Erik. How’s that going to look if people see us together?” Belle worried her lip, unsure if she should stay or not.
“Good point.” Kendra leaned back in her chair. “That sucks.”
Belle begged to differ. The more distance between her and Erik, the better. She picked up a menu, not really hungry anymore. “What are you going to have?”
“Tamales with a side of Cash,” she said with a tongue and cheek grin.
“Are you that hard up for a date?” It was a rhetorical question. Kendra went through men like water through fingers. She never held onto one for longer than a few weeks.
Kendra’s grin broadened, undaunted by the chastisement. “Of course not. Unlike cynical you, I am always looking for the next Mr. Right Now.”
EE: Is your friend single?
Belle’s stomach dropped and she clutched her phone. Was he asking or himself or Cash?
