Hope nodded. “Told you.” Their eyes locked and held on for what was probably longer than normal, but it wasn’t as if Mallory could look away. Something about Hope unsettled her and intrigued her at the same time. Like looking over the edge of a tall building to the ground below. It wasn’t a feeling that she was very comfortable with. In fact, she hated heights.
“You probably do it too,” Hope said.
“Do what?” Mallory asked, struggling to follow the thread in the midst of the red tank top.
“Take in information about people,” Hope said. “Tell me something you’ve noticed about me.”
Mallory thought for a moment. “You’re ridiculously confident.”
Hope studied her, the ever-present smile tugged. What was with that smile anyway? God. “And that bothers you?”
“The confidence? No. I don’t care if you’re confident. Seems to have served you well around here.”
“Then why do you say it like that?” Hope asked, settling the lemon wedge on the side of the glass. “Laced with such judgment.”
“I’m not judging you. That’s ridiculous. You asked me to tell you something I’ve observed.”
“Right. Like that I push the hair off my forehead when I’m concentrating, because I do tend to do that. Or that I keep one eye on the door, mentally tracking the capacity of the bar as new customers enter. That’s also something I tend to do.”
Mallory hadn’t noticed those things but would now, damn it. “You never said there were rules to this game. I should have been informed of the rules.”
Hope seemed to be enjoying this exchange. She bit the side of her lip and regarded Mallory. “You’re kind of competitive, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea,” a voice from behind them said. Hunter slid onto the stool next to Mallory. “Brooks and Sam are two minutes behind me, tying up some loose ends at the office.” She turned back to Hope. “Don’t engage with her in anything that requires a winner. Bad, bad idea.”
Mallory rolled her eyes.
“Oh yeah? Good to know,” Hope said, and slid the drink to Mallory. “For you. One good and strong whiskey sour.”
“And just in time,” Mallory said as Brooklyn appeared in the doorway. “Thank you,” she said, raising her glass to Hope. “What do I owe you?”
“On the house.”
Mallory sighed. “Hope, you can’t keep buying me drinks. It was fun in the beginning, but now it’s just—”
“Is this because I kissed you?”
As Brooklyn and Sam approached, their eyebrows shot up in unison, and Mallory forced a bright smile, determined to remain in control of this moment if it killed her. Reminding herself not to engage further, she slid a ten in Hope’s direction. “For my drink.”
At the safety of their customary table moments later, all eyes turned to Mallory. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked her friends.
“Because of the sparks flying between you and Hot Bartender just now,” Brooklyn said, eyes wide. “That was something. No, more than something. That was like chemistry class on crack.”
Samantha pointed at Brooklyn. “She’s right. My face is melting from the heat you guys were throwing off.” She fanned herself for effect.
“Stop that,” Mallory said, pointing at Sam. “No fanning. And besides, it’s not like that.”
“Well, it is,” Hunter supplied, chin in hand. “You’re just not open to it.”
Mallory felt her defenses rise. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Hunter continued in her typical nonchalance. She was never argumentative, just very up front and charming, which tended to soften the blow. “You keep to yourself. Work ridiculous hours. Never put yourself out there much.”
“That’s not true.” And it sooo wasn’t. She was open to life and enjoyed a variety of experiences. “And you’re one to talk, Hunter,” she said in allusion to Hunter’s wilder, less-committed past.
Hunter smiled in acquiescence. “Okay, that part is true. But once I did open myself up, look what happened.” She placed a kiss on Sam’s cheek, and Mallory watched as Sam blushed right on cue. They really were perfect for each other, those two. It was a little sickening how perfect.
Samantha, always practical, held up a hand. “Okay, let’s all back up and discuss this logically. Examine what we know.”
“Good call,” Brooklyn said and turned to Mallory. “When was the last time you dated someone?”
Mallory thought on this. “Um, there was Angela from school when she was in town.”
“You cannot count Angela from school,” Hunter said, shaking her head. “That was a hookup and you know it. Plus, you weren’t into Angela.”
“I was too into her. Kind of. And hookups do count.”
“They don’t count as dating,” Hunter said, emphasizing the word.
“Fine. I haven’t been on a date in a while. Big deal.” Mallory was ready to be done with the whole conversation. So she had a lot on her plate and it probably wasn’t the right time for dating anyway. It took a lot of time to be in charge of the world. Plus, she was only twenty-nine and had her whole life ahead of her.
“Just keep an open mind,” Brooklyn said, shrugging. As if ordained from the heavens, the second half of couple number two arrived, and Brooklyn accepted a deeper-than-normal kiss from Jessica, who joined them fresh from work. As she removed her heels, Mallory smiled at the parallel.
“Rough day?” she asked Jessica.
“Three client meetings, four employee reviews, two strategy sessions, and a partridge in a pear tree.”
Brooklyn slid her drink to Jessica. “I think you need this more than I do. And you’re just in time to hear how Mallory’s big presentation went with Big Top. And go.” Brooklyn pointed at Mallory, who took a deep breath and recounted everything that had happened that morning with Timmy, Robby, and Freddy, all the way down to the good-bye huddle and high-five.
“Wait. So they didn’t have you present at all?” Brooklyn asked, sipping her cucumber martini. “But you’d worked so hard on that proposal.”
“I know. It was the weirdest thing,” Mallory explained, doing her best to communicate the truly strange environment. “Like I’d accidently slid into some kind of never-never land where boys have all the time in the world to play. As we’re slogging away at the office or on client calls each day, these guys are at their own homemade Chuck E. Cheese having a blast while at the same time running a rather successful business. It’s kind of wild.”
“But do you think it went well?” Sam asked. Mallory knew that Samantha, as the bookkeeper, was counting on Big Top to bring in the last little bit of cash they needed to move to a larger network and hire a higher-end IT company to handle the electronic end of the business. Plus, Big Top would be a nice addition to their portfolio.
“I couldn’t begin to tell you.” Mallory shrugged. “They seemed happy, but it had nothing to do with our proposal.”
Brooklyn turned to Jessica. “You guys aren’t going out for Big Top?”
Jessica sat back in her chair. The Lennox Group was a formidable agency and got most of the accounts they went after. Whether they all played nice or not, the two companies were competitors. “It had crossed my mind, but after this little report, I think we’ll sit this one out.”
Mallory nodded. “Wise choice. But I’ve put too much into this to bow out now. We will be in the movie-theater business. I just have to figure out the in.”
“You want my advice?” Jessica asked. These were dicey waters, and there was a time when Mallory would have rather eaten her own shirt than take advice from Jessica Lennox herself, but times were changing. Her friends glanced at each other nervously, clearly unsure what Mallory would say.
“Sure. I’d love some perspective.” A collective sigh of relief from their faces let her know she’d done the right thing. But honestly, she really could use the insight.
“They want to make sure you’re one of them.” Jessica shrugged. “It’s a bro
audition.”
“I’m sorry. I went on a bro audition?” Mallory asked.
“They’re testing you to see if you fit in.”
“So I’m essentially back in college and pledging a sorority?”
Jessica smiled. “A fraternity, but yes. So I hope your keg stand is impressive and ready to go.”
Hunter raised an amused eyebrow. Samantha passed her an encouraging look. Brooklyn, never one to miss an opportunity, offered her a high-five over the table, one that Mallory met wholeheartedly, followed by a shoulder roll in mental preparation. Because a bro audition? She could rock that. Why the hell not?
*
Hope felt like letting off a little steam. Maybe it was her interplay with Mallory earlier in the evening, or the fact that Kara had shown up again, but something had her extra keyed up and she needed some sort of distraction. “Can you take the bar for an hour or so?” she asked Teddy as he joined her there.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. And your sister called,” he said, looking at her curiously. “She wants to know if she can cook a steak she found in your fridge? I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“We’re not exactly close these days. Thanks, though. I’ll handle it.” She tossed the towel from her shoulder onto the bar and made her way to the back of the place, retrieving the darts from the unoccupied board, and took her spot. She didn’t need to call Kara. She’d eat the steak Hope had purchased for one of her rare nights off without permission. Hell, she probably already had and called as an afterthought, snagging the number from the magnet on her fridge.
With laser focus, Hope took a deep breath before throwing one dart after another. Not her best work, but she did okay. She repeated the process over and over again, until a small grouping of patrons, okay, girls, gathered nearby to watch.
“You’re really great at that,” a brunette, who was barely legal, called out.
“Thanks,” Hope said, offering her a quick smile.
“I didn’t know you played,” Hunter said, joining Hope next to the board as she retrieved the recently thrown darts.
“Occasionally.” She took her spot and threw, nailing the twenty. She threw again, bull’s-eye. She threw again, twenty.
“Yeah, only occasionally.” Hunter scoffed. “Play?”
“Sure. Underdog first,” she said, winking at Hunter. Hope took three games straight and enjoyed the applause from the now-large group that had gathered to take in the action. Hunter had quite a few devoted fans at the bar herself, including her girlfriend, who seemed to enjoy the show, but she was only okay at the game itself. Hope took two more games before Hunter surrendered.
“I’ll take a game,” a voice from the crowd called out. Hope scanned the group until Mallory stepped forward. Hunter raised an eyebrow and handed the darts to Mallory.
“Looks like you have a new challenger,” Hunter said to Hope, who was more than up for it. Mallory downed the rest of her drink and passed the glass to Brooklyn, who cheered as Mallory took a spot next to Hope at the line.
“You ready for this?” Mallory asked. She rolled her shoulders and ran a hand through her dark hair. It was one of the sexiest things Hope had ever seen, that is, until Mallory threw a double bull’s-eye five point two seconds later.
“You’re a shark,” Hope breathed, incredulous.
“Nah,” Mallory said and smiled innocently. “Just a snob with really good luck, apparently.” Again with the sexy. God, Mallory had the best lips, Hope decided in that moment. Full and expressive and tempting her in the worst way. She easily recalled how they tasted.
“Care to wager?” Hope asked.
Mallory broke into an easy smile and inclined her head in the direction of the bull’s-eye. “You sure you want to do that?”
“I am. Two out of three,” Hope said, thinking about the terms. “If I win, you have to have dinner with me.”
Mallory narrowed her gaze. “I’m not having dinner with you, but then again, you’re not going to win.”
“Then what’s the harm?”
“Valid point,” Mallory said, nodding. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and considered her options. “Okay, deal. And if I win, you have to stop flirting with me.”
Hope let her mouth fall open. “Let’s think this through, as that sounds like a lose-lose for both of us.”
“Do we have a bet or not?” Mallory asked, all business now. She opened her hand and extended it to Hope.
“We do.” They shook on it and turned to the board. The whole place was watching now, which only made the whole thing that much more fun.
Hunter reappeared with a second whiskey sour. “For the ringer,” she said to Hope and handed the drink to Mallory. Mallory winked at Hunter and threw her first dart as Hope looked on. Another single bull’s-eye, dammit.
And they were off.
The first game went easily to Mallory, which was a new and humbling experience for Hope. But she rallied with a double bull’s-eye of her own in game two and dropped her score quickly to zero—cinching the second game for herself in a rewarding victory.
With it all tied up and one game left to determine a winner, Mallory turned to Hope as she retrieved the darts from the board. “You want to just surrender now and not embarrass yourself in front of your fan girls?”
“No, but I’d be willing to let you back out.” Hope shrugged. “I’m a giver.”
Mallory rolled her eyes and without comment took her spot behind the line. Right foot out in front, she moved the dart forward and backward as she lined up her throw, nailing the double bull’s-eye yet again. This girl really was good.
“Do they teach darts in prep school these days?”
Mallory turned to her. “How did you know I went to prep school?”
Hope laughed quietly. “Oh, I didn’t. Do now though.”
For the next ten minutes, Hope did what she could to hold her own against the dart pro that Mallory turned out to be. With the score incredibly close and Mallory only one throw away from stealing the whole match, Hope decided a little strategy outside of the game couldn’t hurt. So as Mallory concentrated on the board and lined up what could be the death throw, Hope leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “And don’t let your mind drift to my lips on yours.” She heard Mallory’s breath catch quietly in response, though her eyes never left the board. She threw and landed a four, falling short of the eighteen she needed to win. Mallory shot her a look full of disdain as Hope took her spot. When she landed the double thirteen she needed, the bar erupted in shouts and applause.
Mallory extended her hand for a congratulatory shake, but her face was now noticeably blank, sealed off in the worst way possible. Someday Hope planned to break through that carefully guarded exterior. Someday.
“So when are we having dinner?” she asked Mallory, accepting the handshake.
“You’re seriously going to collect on this? After that?”
“A bet’s a bet,” Hope pointed out with a smile. “And c’mon, it could be fun. I’ll even buy.”
Mallory stared at the ceiling for a moment as if she was only just barely able to tolerate the conversation. It was clear she hated to lose. “Fine. But let’s be clear. This is not a date, and I’m going because I’m being forced to.”
“I can stipulate to those terms.”
Mallory sighed in defeat. “Thursday night?”
“Done. I’ll pick you up for our non-date. Where do you live?”
Mallory raised one finger. “No. I’ll meet you here.”
“That’s cool too.”
Mallory hated this. She wasn’t used to losing, but she knew how to be gracious when called upon. She’d been brought up with manners, after all, and would survive this defeat, even though this was so not one of her favorite moments.
After making dinner arrangements with Hope, Mallory didn’t linger for niceties, and she certainly didn’t bother raising the point that she’d been unfairly distracted by the audacious comment whispered in her ear, because that
would mean admitting that Hope was capable of distracting her. Annoyed with herself further for stealing a last glance at the captivating blue eyes, a glance that seemed to morph into a drift down to the red tank top, Mallory slid back into her hateful heels and headed for the door.
“You put up a worthy fight,” Samantha offered once they landed on the street.
“Thanks, Sam,” Mallory said with gratitude.
Brooklyn shook her head in mystification. “I’ve never seen Mallory lose at anything billiards related. This is kind of monumental.”
“Like my ego isn’t wounded enough,” Mallory lamented.
With that, Brooklyn slung an arm around her neck. “But I have a sneaking suspicion that you threw that last game. Can you confirm or deny?”
“Why in the world would I do that?” Mallory asked, incredulous.
“Because a date with Hot Bartender sounds like the perfect consolation prize to me.”
Hunter nodded, considering this point. “It’s not a bad parting prize.”
“Well, I didn’t throw it,” Mallory said, more testily than she’d meant to. “Just a weird day. First the bromance at Big Top, and now a very public loss at something I normally rock at. I need a hot bath and a book.”
Brooklyn looked at her dramatically and stepped back. “Tomorrow is another day.” And instantly Mallory knew where this was heading and bit back a grin.
Sam didn’t miss her cue and stepped over to Brooklyn. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
“Sir, you are no gentleman,” Brooklyn countered, in full Scarlett O’Hara mode.
Samantha stepped up onto a planter and offered her best Rhett Butler. “And you, miss, are no lady.” Mallory smiled as The Gone With the Wind quote-a-thon continued on their short walk back to their building. Brooklyn and Samantha bonded on a daily basis over their love for old movies, and she had to admit, it lifted her spirits to watch their back-and-forth.
Mallory regarded her friends as they walked. “You guys are my favorite. You should know this.”
“Back atcha,” Sam said. “We happen to adore our fearless leader.” The sentiment touched her.
Ready or Not Page 7
