by Chiah Wilder
I leaned over and patted my grandfather’s veiny hand. “I’ll take care of business, and when I run into a snag, you’re the first one I’ll call. Velocity is you, and that’s never gonna change.”
Thomas Linder, founder of Velocity, would never fully let the reins go, and I didn’t want him to. If he was forced to do it, he’d shrivel up. He needed a purpose in life, and I had no intention of shutting him out—doctor’s orders notwithstanding.
“Back to my question. How was your first week?”
“It was a lot to take in,” I admitted. “But I’ll get there. Everyone’s being pretty accommodating.”
With a grin he ran a finger along the rim of the snifter. “You’ll find that everyone is when you’re related to the founder of the company.”
I laughed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m rich and privileged so everyone treats me nice.”
“Never forget that.” His eyes sparkled in the glow of the crackling fire in the fireplace.
We fell into a comfortable silence, and soon my grandfather’s eyes began to droop as his head bent forward slightly. I smiled as I took him in. When I was a kid, he was a giant of a man. Now he was too thin and pale, and sun spots freckled his hands and face, but he was still a giant in my eyes. The spark that lit up inside him when he talked about Velocity was something I never wanted to see burn out.
Glancing around the room, I remembered how I used to love sitting on the overstuffed leather chair near the fireplace on rainy afternoons. The built-in bookcases held treasures for a sad, eight-year-old kid who’d just lost his beloved dad. In the early months of living with my grandparents and coming to terms with the fact that I’d never see my dad again, the books on the shelves saved me. Instead of trying to understand the raw, savage ache deep inside me, I lost myself in the enchanted world of Merlin and King Arthur, and lived the seafaring adventures alongside Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island. The leather-bound books filled a dark void in my young life, and it was during that phase that I began a love affair with reading.
A swoosh of cold air funneled into the room, and the thud of a closing door roused my grandfather. “What’s that?” he asked, straightening up.
“It’s only me,” my grandmother said as she breezed into the library. I started to get up and she shook her head, her pale blue eyes sparkling. “Don’t get up. I’m so happy to see you. How are you?” She came over and kissed my cheek, the familiar smell of lavender surrounding me.
“Good.” I stroked her soft cheek.
Glancing sideways at my grandfather, she asked, “You haven’t been talking shop, have you? You know the doctor doesn’t want your grandfather to get too excited.”
Before I could answer, he grumbled, “What does the damn doctor know, anyway? Just sitting here being quiet gets me excited.”
“We’re good,” I added.
“Old goats never learn,” she said gruffly, but a glint of love shimmered in her eyes. She went over and kissed him on top of his snowy white hair, then sat down in the chair across from me. “What’s going on with that woman you said you were seeing?”
I cleared my throat. How the hell did the subject change so quickly? My grandmother was obsessed with me settling down, and each time I shared anything about my dating status, she’d cling to it like ivy around a tree. The only reason I even shared anything about women with her was to keep her off my back for a while. My mom used to ride me about it too, but since she’d remarried a couple of years before, she’d let up a lot. But Grandma? Not one iota. As a matter of fact, she stepped up her “Get Trace Married” campaign with each birthday I celebrated.
“Which woman is that?” I asked.
“The one you’re dating. Kayley?”
“Oh, Kelsey. I’m not seeing her anymore.” I braced myself. Three. Two. One. Yep… there it is. Her smiling face transformed into one of disappointment and anguish. You’d have thought I’d told her I had a fatal disease.
She shook her head and looked down at her folded hands in her lap. “Oh, Trace, no. What happened with this one?”
There was no way in hell I was going to tell my grandmother that I caught Kelsey and Jason fucking up a storm, so I shrugged. “Just ran its course. She wasn’t for me. She was shallow and a gold-digger.” True on both accounts.
“You don’t want someone like that,” my grandfather said.
“You say that about most of the women you date. They can’t all be like that.” My grandmother stared intently at me.
“I guess I’m a magnet for that kind of woman.”
“Isn’t there anyone you know who’s different from that and you’re attracted to?” She leaned back against the cushion.
Eyeliner-rimmed eyes reflecting the warmth of the sun popped into my mind. Cierra. But I couldn’t go there for several reasons: my grandmother would latch onto it like a dog with a bone and never let up, my grandfather would have a stroke after he chewed out my ass for even looking at an employee in that way, and I didn’t want to vocalize whatever feelings I had for her because I didn’t know what the hell they were or why I was having them.
“Nah,” I answered, then reached for the brandy decanter.
“You know, I have a lot of friends with granddaughters who would love to meet you, and they’re all very nice girls,” Grandma said, as she did every time I was around.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I gulped the brandy, loving the way its smoothness burned straight down to my belly.
“Leave the boy alone. He’s got plenty of time to settle down. He’s got a company to run and it needs all his attention,” Grandpa grumbled.
“You certainly were able to build the company, run it, be married, and raise two daughters. He’s thirty-one years old. I think it’s time he at least settles down into a long-term relationship. I’m not saying he needs to get married right away, but dating someone for more than a couple of months would be nice. Remember when we were dating and how—”
Whenever my grandmother talked about me in the third person and started down memory lane, I knew it was my cue to take off. Rising to my feet, I coughed loudly. Both sets of eyes went to me. “Uh… I need to get going. I’m meeting Nick for drinks and a few games of pool.”
“You should be wining and dining a beautiful young lady instead of going out with one of your male friends. It’s Saturday night.”
“I know, Grandma, and I like hanging out with my buddies. It’s been a long week, and this is exactly what I want to do on a Saturday night.” I went over and kissed her temple, then grinned at my grandfather who smiled at me.
“I just don’t get it. I’m definitely going to ask around and find the right woman for you.”
“You do that.” I smiled and walked out of the room.
I pulled my Corvette into one of the parking spaces in the underground garage of my building in Pacific Heights and took the elevator up to the fourteenth floor. Opening the door of my penthouse, the sweeping view of the city and bay greeted me, reminding me why I’d slapped down over three million for the place. My mom helped me decorate when I’d purchased it three years before, hence the reason for the sleek quartz countertops in the kitchen and top-of-the-line appliances. The chicks went crazy for the European gloss cabinetry and the Viking gas range, always wanting to cook me stuff. I normally settled on breakfast because by dinnertime, I’d escorted them out of my space. The Viking hadn’t been used since I broke it off with Kelsey. The last few hookups I had were at the women’s apartments, and I never spent the night. What could I say? The long and short of it was that I just wasn’t good at being in relationships. Great at starting them, just not so good when it came to keeping them going.
As I headed into the kitchen, I wondered if Cierra knew how to cook. Having a couple hours to kill before meeting Nick at Tipsy Cow, I went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, then settled down in front of the big-ass television in the living room. I was picky as hell about my electronics and didn’t hesitate to throw down some serious bucks to get the best the industry had
to offer.
Maybe I’ll meet someone who catches my eye and hook up with her for a one-night stand. The Tipsy Cow had been good to me in the past as far as chicks were concerned. Nick had fared well at the place too. Even though we were going to play pool and drink, meeting some hot chicks was always in the back of our minds.
Cierra popped into my thoughts. She’d been doing that a lot since our meeting, and it pissed me off that I couldn’t get her out of my fucking mind. Folding my arms behind my head, I stretched out on the couch and concentrated on the intergalactic battle on the screen. The last thing I needed was to be sucked into an office scandal. I just needed to find a woman to relieve the stress of the week. Cierra wasn’t the only one in San Fran; there were plenty of them just as pretty or even prettier than her. I’d just been too preoccupied with my first week at Velocity to hook up with anyone. After I did that, Cierra would just be another employee. Of that I was certain.
Spaceships and meteorites blew up as I stared at the screen, willing myself to push the chestnut-haired cutie out of my mind.
Chapter Seven
Cierra
The pub was packed as always on a Saturday night. A cacophony of dishes, voices, and music surrounded Sofie and me as we made our way to a small table near the front window and sat down. With the dark woods, leather-cushioned chairs, and large mullioned windows, Tipsy Cow resembled the quintessential English pub, but the flagstone tile floors and sleek stainless steel bar gave it an urban feel.
“It’s crazy full in here,” Sofie said as she scanned the room.
“It’s Saturday. We usually come on Friday or Sunday when it’s not this hectic. Are you looking for that guy who talked our ears off the last time we were here? What was his name?” Even though I knew the menu by heart, I opened it up.
“Colin. He was cute. And I don’t see him.”
“Give it time. As I remember, he came in around ten that night.”
Sofie nodded and picked up the menu.
“Would you like something to drink?” the waitress asked as she put two glasses of water on the table.
After ordering an English pale ale for me and a dark lager for Sofie, I shrugged off my cardigan and placed my purse on the windowsill.
“How was your first week with Mr. Prescott?” Sofie asked.
“Not bad. He seems willing to get in the trenches with us. I know he’s anxious about the Vibra launch, and he wants to learn everything he can about it which is a huge plus.”
“That’s good. It can be dicey with a new boss. I’m not sure how much interaction he’s going to have with the regular staff.”
“I’m not sure about that either, but he is definitely approachable. With Mr. Linder, I always felt intimidated by him, even though he was always nice and pleasant in every interaction I had with him.”
“I know what you mean. Mr. Linder scared the hell out of me, but when he’d come to our department, he was so nice to everyone.”
The waitress brought our drinks and I placed my order for fish and chips while Sofie ordered the special—microbrew-battered halibut with sweet potato chips. It sounded delicious, but the fish and chips were to die for, and that’s what I ended up ordering every time we came here for dinner.
Sofie and I had worked together for the past three years. We became fast friends, and we both admitted it was like we had known each other for years. We hung out a lot, and I’d helped her through a couple of tough breakups. She’d only been through one with me—Jeremy. I’d met him at one of the hundreds of networking parties I attended, and we ended up hooking up right away. Our tryst was hot, intense, explosive, and it ended as quickly as it started. I never had time to fall in love with him since we burned out after only a few months and all that was left was the ash. I didn’t regret it, but I did miss him… or rather, I got used to him being beside me when I woke up, and just having him around in general. I hadn’t thought about him for over a year, but for a split second, I wished he was there beside me with his arm around me. Or maybe the small empty hole inside me was craving romance and intimacy.
“That guy at the bar is really checking you out,” Sofie said, slicing through my thoughts.
I looked over my shoulder. “Which one?”
“The guy wearing the expensive-looking olive sweater.”
I swiveled slightly in my chair and caught his gaze. Darting my eyes away and then back for a couple of brief seconds, I smiled and turned around. “He looks familiar,” I said.
“Who is he?”
“I’m not sure. He just looks familiar.” I drained the last of my beer.
The waitress came back over with two fresh glasses of beer, compliments of the man in the olive sweater. I glanced at him, held up my glass, and mouthed, “Thank you.” A few minutes later, he was standing by our table introducing himself.
“I’m Cory,” he said as he dragged a chair to our table and sat down.
“Cierra, and this is Sofie,” I said, tilting my head toward her. “Thanks for the drink.”
“You’re welcome. You girls are too pretty to not have a gentleman with you.”
“Have we met before?” I asked.
“No. I’m new to the city. Why?” His fingers brushed over my forearm.
“You just look familiar. When did you move here?”
“Two months ago. I have that kind of face. You’re not the first one to tell me that I look familiar.” His penetrating stare fixed on me.
“Are you in advertising or marketing?” I picked up my drink and brought the rim to my lips.
“Neither. Finance. Is that a problem?” He laughed dryly.
“There he is!” Sofie yelled out, then covered her mouth with her napkin, redness streaking her cheeks.
I looked over and saw Colin sauntering up to the bar. Cory threw Sofie a dirty look, and that surprised me. What’s his problem?
“Should I go over to him and say hi?” she asked.
“Yeah. He’s not with anyone. I’d go for it. What will it hurt?”
Sofie pushed her shoulders back, took a big gulp of her lager, and stood up. “I’m going for it. Wish me luck.”
I watched as she snaked her way through the crowd. When a huge grin spread over Colin’s face, I knew Sofie wouldn’t be back to the table in a while.
“Would you like anything else?” the waitress asked as she picked up the empty plates. I shook my head and she placed the bill on the table.
Before I could even touch it, Cory grabbed it. “It’s on me.”
“No way,” I said.
“I insist,” he countered.
“No. There’s no reason for you to pay for our dinner. I won’t allow it.” I extended my hand, expecting for him to give me the bill.
“Please let me buy dinner for you and your friend. I want to.” He placed his hand on mine.
“I don’t even know you. I don’t feel comfortable with you picking up the tab.” Under normal circumstances, I’d have been perfectly okay with a man picking up the bill, but I’d just met him and we weren’t on a date or anything. The whole situation seemed off-kilter to me. I also didn’t want to feel indebted to him. Some men paid and did everything for a woman, then turned ugly when she wanted to end the good times.
“I insist,” he said as he waved the waitress over, handing her the bill and a credit card.
“I didn’t really want you to do that,” I muttered.
“You can make it up to me.”
Aha, the payoff. “I’m listening.”
“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.” He smiled and fine lines radiated from the corners of his eyes.
“I can’t.”
“What about Monday?”
“I’m volunteering at a soup kitchen.”
“That’s a nice thing to do.”
“I’m involved with Lending a Helping Hand. It’s a charity that goes out to the community and helps where needed. We don’t pick one particular segment of the population or one cause, choosing instead to address all needs.
I picked helping out in the soup kitchen next week.”
“I’ve never heard of that organization. I’ll have to check it out and donate some money to it. Sounds like a worthy charity.”
“It is. I’ve been involved with it since I moved here five years ago.”
“That’s nice. How’s Thursday for dinner? You have to eat.”
I laughed. He was persistent, I’d give him that. And he seemed like a nice enough guy. It wouldn’t hurt to have dinner with him. “Okay, but I’ll meet you.” Being a woman, you could never be too careful. I didn’t know him at all, and I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making a date with an axe murderer. Considering my dating track record, I couldn’t be too careful.
“Do you like seafood?”
“I do.”
“I’ll make the reservations at Harbor Fish House.”
“Isn’t it in Fisherman’s Wharf on Pier 39?”
“Yeah. I know it sounds like I’m a tourist, but I love Fisherman’s Wharf. Are you good with that?”
“Of course. I love it there. And the views are spectacular. I don’t go there very often, so this will be a treat.”
He squeezed the top of my hand and smiled. “Great. Give me your number so I can confirm with you.” He pulled out his phone.
We exchanged phone numbers and chatted about San Francisco, our backgrounds, and what brought him to northern California. Cory Bracker came from the St. Louis area where he grew up with three siblings. Like me, he was the middle child, and we talked about how that affected us for a bit. He studied at the University of Missouri and graduated with a degree in business administration. He’d been working for a company in St. Louis when the opportunity came up for him to move to San Fran and work with a real estate development company. His job was to secure investors for the multimillion-dollar projects they had.
We spoke easily, and he certainly was generous in buying me drinks. It didn’t seem like he was trying to get me plastered like some guys do to loosen up a woman. He was polite and interesting, and I soon quashed all second thoughts about giving a stranger my phone number.
