Sam understood the implication. Hunter was asking about Sexgate, which was essentially the last time they’d seen each other. She felt a little unsteady with their arrangement, especially since it was atypical behavior for her. She was a romantic, after all, and sleeping with someone for the sake of anything other than actual emotion was outside her experience level. But then again, she was feeling ready to venture away from her norm. And this felt like taking life by the horns for once. Plus, Hunter was her friend, and she felt safe with her. “Yeah, I think we are.”
“So did you think about me while I was gone?” Hunter teased. “Dream about me?” She raised an overly seductive eyebrow, which forced Samantha to throw a pillow at her, because she wasn’t getting away with that.
“Just because I slept with you doesn’t mean you can flirt with me.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Nope. Against the friends-with-benefits rules. We’re friends right now. This is the friend part of our relationship.”
“Well, that seems wildly unfun.”
Sam pushed off the couch and went back to the puzzle. “Deal with it. And get back over here and help with this puzzle. My café is gaining on your building. You gotta keep up, slacker.”
Hunter stood. “You are really, really bossy.”
“And you love it.”
Chapter Ten
“So, Howard, what brought you to New York?” Sam sipped the champagne that Howard had insisted they order, enjoying the way the bubbles tickled her throat on the way down. Her spirits were high. It felt good being out on an actual date.
“Women,” Howard said.
She choked a little on the champagne at his response. “I’m sorry. Did you say women?”
“Oh, yes,” he said in his cute little Howard voice. Almost like a well-mannered cartoon character, sitting there with that red bow tie—the same one from his profile photo—and tan jacket. She wasn’t judging him. It was a definite choice, that outfit, and he was owning it. “I heard that the women in the Big Apple are the prettiest women just about anywhere, so I moved my software company from Iowa to find out for myself.” He certainly had a slow delivery style, as if each word carried special meaning for him.
“Oh, and how has that worked out?”
“Well, have you looked in the mirror lately?” He pulled his face back and shook his head. “My, you’re stunning, Samantha. I’m so glad you opened up your heart to the world of online dating. There’s so much for people like us to explore.”
“Thank you. Um…it’s a little new for me. I will admit to being nervous. I’ve never been on a blind date, much less an online one.”
“But do you want to explore?” The waiter chose just that moment to deliver their meals, which bought her a moment to ponder how one should answer such a strange and vague question.
“Explore?”
“Our love connection.”
“Oh, I think it might be a little premature for the word ‘love,’ don’t you, Howard? Maybe we could just have this meal together and get to know one another a little.”
“Well, that sounds just dandy. Everything you say is dandy.” Wow, genuine enthusiasm. It was sweet. Not exactly sexy. At all. In any way, shape, or form. But he was an earnest little guy and that counted for something, right? She had him pegged at about five-three, with a slight comb-over. That part had not been well represented in his online photo.
“Do you enjoy NASCAR?” he asked, taking the tiniest bite of steak ever assembled.
Really, what was the point of a bite like that? She watched him chew the sliver daintily before reminding herself of the question. “As in racing? No. I’ve never really been into NASCAR.”
“That’s okay. I’ll teach you. The cars, they go in a whirly circle and try to catch one another. It’s like tag for cars. It’ll be so much fun when we watch at my place on Sundays.”
There would be no NASCAR watching.
Silent sigh.
And she didn’t have the heart to point out that, in fact, NASCAR was nothing like tag. “I’m more of a book and movie kind of girl myself. Do you read much?” At this point, she was just trying to make conversation before exiting politely. Howard was not, as he would say, her love connection.
“I enjoy reading cookbooks.”
“Oh, so you like to cook?” At last, an overlap. They could compare notes, recipes, or discuss their enjoyment of creating a new dish.
“No. I just like to read them.”
Sam took a sec. “Oh.”
Howard leaned forward, stealing a glance at a nearby table to make sure no one was listening. “How am I doing?” he whispered.
“What do you mean?” she whispered back.
“My neighbor, Sheila, says I’m worthy of a restraining order.”
“Is that a statement or a goal?”
“I’ll have to think on that.” He sat back in his chair, pensive, leaving Samantha more mystified than ever.
She ate the remaining food on her plate, smiling politely at Howard, who continued to cut his food into infant-sized portions before delicately placing each bite in his mouth with practiced care.
“When would you like to get together again?” Howard asked, taking out a pocket calendar.
Sam took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. I’m not thinking that’s such a good idea.”
“Is it the love connection?”
She made a point to look sorrowful. “It is, I’m afraid.”
“The love connection is important. And if it’s not there, you can’t force it.”
“You can’t force it. Exactly.”
Howard was gracious enough to pay the check and walked Samantha to the corner. “You’re just a wonderful Big Apple girl. I can tell. Thank you for having dinner with me at this fine bistro down the block from us now.”
Okay, he was back to being cute again. She wanted to straighten his tiny bow tie and pat his head. “I’m happy to have met you, Howard. I wish you well.” She placed a kiss on his cheek.
“I wish you well, too, Samantha. In all of your life’s pursuits. I hope you find your extra-special love connection.” He placed something in her hand and walked away. She glanced down and found herself staring in mystification at a one-hundred-dollar bill.
“Howard, wait, no!” But he closed the door to an idling cab and was gone.
She looked down at the cash. Seriously?
*
“How’d your hot date go?” Hunter asked from the couch when Samantha arrived home. She was tucked under a blanket with Elvis curled into the crook of her knee. Once he spotted Samantha, however, he jumped down from the couch and came to greet her, his entire body wagging like a tail.
“Hi, little El.” She stooped down and scratched behind his ears, which seemed to make him smile his Elvis smile. She’d never met a dog who’d mastered the art of smiling the way he had. She straightened and stared at Hunter. “I might be a prostitute. You should know this. A dinner prostitute, but still a prostitute.”
Hunter, who had the top of her hair pulled back in a clip today, studied her nonchalantly. “A dinner whore? Congratulations. I don’t know many of those.”
“You think I’m kidding. I’m not. The guy literally handed me a hundred bucks on the street and then took off.” She held up the hundred as evidence.
“Whoa. Well, you are an excellent dinner companion.”
Sam hung up her cardigan on the coat rack. “Right? Maybe I should add it to my résumé.”
Hunter smiled. “Please list it as ‘Dinner Whore.’ I’m in favor of the term. It’s growing on me, moment to moment.”
Sam batted Hunter’s feet out of the way and sat at the end of the couch. “You’re on. DW for short.” And then she caught a detail she’d missed when she first arrived.
Hunter eyed her. “What?”
“There’s an actual book in your lap. Oh my word. You’re all cozy and reading.”
Hunter glanced down at the novel and shrugged. “It happens on occasion. I th
ought I’d see what the fuss is about. And then there’s the fact that I do whatever I can to hear you say ‘oh my word.’ Say it again.”
Samantha ignored the jab and lifted the spine of the book as she dipped her head. “Pride and Prejudice. One of my all-time favorites.”
“I figured as much from the broken-in spine. I like this Elizabeth. She has a subtle humor about her. A cool chick. She makes jokes when she’s nervous. You do that, too, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, in a perfect world, I’d rather be like you. Composed and unaffected in those sort of moments.”
“No way. That would be boring. The world needs a blushing Samantha Ennis who diverts with humor.”
She smiled at Hunter. “I like that you’re reading it. It will be fun to see the book through someone else’s eyes. Yours especially. I happen to value your thoughts a great deal.”
“That sounds like pressure. I hope I don’t disappoint you.” Hunter met her gaze and held on. “I’m sorry your night was cut short. I know you were hoping Howard J. would be the bow-tie-wearing man of your dreams.”
“Le sigh. I was hoping, but I’ll live,” Sam said. “And never look at NASCAR the same way again, consequently. Or steak, for that matter.”
“Care to explain?”
“I’m not sure I could find the words. It’s safe to say that Howard and I are not a match. And it’s now occurring to me that finding my match, if he or she is even out there, is a more difficult task than I had originally hoped. Is it horrible that, after everything, I still want that for myself? Someday, down the road, I want the romance novel.”
Hunter studied her, the playful smile of earlier replaced with a sincere understanding. “And you deserve it.”
Samantha adjusted her spot on the couch and brought her knees up to her chest. “Several years back, I made this list of everything I wanted in the perfect person for me. Kind, funny, successful, good-looking, wants to have kids, gets my quirks, a killer chef, well-read…I mean, the list went on and on.” She covered her face with her hand as embarrassment struck. “I can’t believe I just told you that. Miss Anti-Relationship. You must think I’m so naïve and pathetic.”
“I don’t think that. I’m happy you told me about your list. There’s nothing wrong with having one.”
Samantha dropped her gaze to the floor and examined the swirling patterns where the rug met the cement. “I think I’d settle for kind at this point. Funny couldn’t hurt. But the full package is unrealistic. That list needs shortening, and I think it’s time I acknowledge that.” Hunter stared at her, and it was one of those rare moments where Sam didn’t know what she was thinking. It was a faraway look that Hunter only got once in a while. “Hunter. You in there?”
Hunter took a breath and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. Right here.”
She placed her hand on top of Hunter’s and squeezed. “Thanks. You’ve been a great friend to me through all of this. Libby, Howard…us.” She left it there, knowing that Hunter would fill in the gap, as saying “the night I ripped your clothes off” felt somehow outside the mood.
Hunter straightened. “You’re one of the most important people on the planet to me, you know that?”
The words prompted a warmth to move through Samantha and brought a smile to her face. “I do. But it’s nice to hear it. I can safely say the same right back to you.”
There was a silence between them now as the comments hovered and settled, but not the uncomfortable kind. That was the thing: As different as they were, things were always easy between them. Samantha cherished that.
Finally, Hunter closed her book and turned to Sam. “I don’t know if you’re home for the night or not, but Mallory and I were planning a jaunt to Showplace in an hour. Brooklyn and Jess might join us later. It could cheer you up from your crash-and-burn date.”
“A jaunt, huh?” she said, swatting Hunter’s knee. “You’re all Jane Austen over there. I love it.”
“I may be a club kid, but I’m capable of high culture,” Hunter said, looking adorably proud of herself.
Samantha had to smile, despite the surge of something powerful that pulsed through her in response to the display. Friend or not, Hunter had a way of doing that to her, and it would probably take some getting used to. Surely, any minute, her body would stop its thrumming. “It seems you are.”
But it was only natural to see Hunter in a new light now, given recent events. Probably the perfect cure for it all was a night out with her friends. A little fun and distraction now that her social calendar was unexpectedly free. Samantha stood. “I should probably go stare at my wardrobe in confusion before pulling something off the hanger randomly and putting it on.”
“You come up with the best plans.”
“Yeah, well, steak with Howard and Showplace on a Friday night seem to call for different costumes.”
“Grey Gardens shout-out.”
Samantha turned back. “Whoa. How did you know that?”
Hunter shook her head and returned to her book. “I know a lot more than you give me credit for. You consistently underestimate me, Samantha Ennis. And I have lots more to surprise you with. Buckle up.”
Sam headed off to her room, all the while turning that last sentence over in her head, because she was beginning to think Hunter was right.
She did underestimate her.
They’d known each other forever, yet there seemed to be a lot more to Hunter than she’d ever realized, and for whatever reason, that knowledge zapped her with a surge of extra energy, an excitement, that carried her right into her bedroom, until a strange sight on the edge of her bed pulled her focus. She paused, studying the neat pile of envelopes. “Hunter?” she called out to the living room.
“Yep?”
“The mail is on the end of my bed.”
“I know,” Hunter called back. “It looks good there. It wanted to branch out.”
Sam nodded in amusement. She understood the message and mentally accepted the challenge.
*
Hunter was ready for a throwaway kind of night. One of those times that blended with a hundred other times just like it. And the fact that Showplace was wall-to-wall people when she and Sam arrived was awesome for her plan. “The more the merrier” had always been Hunter’s go-to philosophy. Well, that, and a no-regrets kind of mantra. She’d stayed away from the party scene long enough, but her head was a mess, and she needed to remedy that.
Showplace was located just down the block from the loft. The casual bar turned nightclub on the weekends had easily developed over time into the foursome’s favorite hangout. Monday through Thursday, it was the perfect place to gather and kick back over drinks and some good conversation. But once Friday night hit, a DJ set up shop and the space transformed. Hunter loved the dichotomy. While the place was out of the way enough that tourists weren’t an issue, word of the bar’s killer vibe had trickled out, and the crowds were slowly picking up.
While not exactly a gay bar by definition, it was safe to say that Showplace fell more and more that direction as time went on. The high ceilings of the converted warehouse gave the room a spacious feel, even though the place wasn’t that large. The minimalistic décor coupled with the purple and blue light bulbs that hung from the rafters provided an industrial vibe reminiscent of the neighborhood that Hunter found rather chill. The front portion of the room was comprised of a dozen or so tall bistro tables with leather-backed chairs, all surrounding a central metallic bar.
She and Sam located Mallory easily enough at their standard table to the left of the bar, set back from the dance floor. Mallory sipped a martini, which she raised to them as they sat. “I got started early. That kind of week.”
Samantha grimaced. “You really have been pulling the crazy hours. Serenity?”
Mallory nodded. “Those women are high maintenance. And they have a lot of opinions.”
“About water?” Sam asked.
Mallory’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“Been there
. What else?”
“Twelve potential new client meetings since Wednesday. And I took Brooklyn with me on five. She really knows how to pull them in with her description of her ideas. She just lights up.”
“She’s great at making her excitement contagious,” Hunter added. “It’s the Brooklyn factor. Hard to resist.” She pointed at Samantha. “Cucumber martini?”
Sam nodded and smiled. “Yes, please.”
Hunter maneuvered her way to the bar, but the journey there was delayed by quite a few necessary hellos to various friends and acquaintances.
“Hunter’s here,” a voice called.
She nodded hello.
“Hey, Hunter!” From another side of the room.
She waved.
“Where have you been?” a random girl in front of her asked. “I’ve missed you.”
“Just busy. You know how things can get.”
It seemed as soon as she finished one exchange, there was someone else waiting to steal a kiss on the cheek or make her promise to dance with them later. She pressed forward just as another hand landed on her back.
“Hunter Blair, also known as missing in action?”
Stephanie. They’d hooked up once last year. It might have been twice. She was a fun girl. Short-cropped hair that she kept bleached blond and a few well-placed piercings—some less visible than others, if she remembered correctly.
Hunter grinned. “Not MIA. I’ve been around. You just haven’t been looking hard enough. Good to see you, though. I dig the jacket.” It was something to say. She tended to compliment women whenever she could, an automatic pilot thing. She enjoyed making other people feel good.
“Can I just say,” Stephanie said, moving her hands from Hunter’s elbows up her shoulders, “that I have never seen you look more delectable.”
“Delectable is quite a word, Steph.”
“I know lots of big words, sweetie. I can say them for you later if you’d like.”
Just Three Words Page 17
