Grant managed to make a face-palm into a huge dramatic production. “Women love when a guy wants to hook up if, you know, he’s got nothing better to do.”
“Trust me, I get it. I was trying to figure out how to make it sound casual while also reminding her my work shifts aren’t like hers, and I opened my mouth before I nailed it down. By the time what I said really registered, she’d said goodbye and was walking away.”
“It’s not like you to choke like that. Makes me wonder if you’re looking for your next hookup, or if you actually are really into her and your brain doesn’t know how to handle that.”
Gavin was pretty sure it went beyond wanting some action and Cait being hot. There was no shortage of attractive women in Boston. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, either, and there were places he could go—especially in his BFD T-shirt—and not have any trouble finding company for a night or two.
There was just something aboutCait.
But he wasn’t ready to explore that possibility out loud with anybody just yet. Even his best friend. “I don’t know, man.”
“You need to go out and blow off some steam. Drink some beers. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, you’ll meet a woman who’ll take your mind off whatever the hell’s wrong with you. Take a wingman and go find some distraction.”
There wasn’t a woman alive who could distract him from Cait Tasker, but Gavin sure as hell wasn’t going to admitthatout loud. “What do you mean, take a wingman? You’re my wingman, dumbass.”
“I have a date,” Grant said. “Maybe a girlfriend.”
“No shit. How did I not know this? Who is she?”
“Her name’s Wren. It’ll be our third date...kind of. And I know it’s too soon to tell, but you might need a new wingman, Gavin.”
Gavin stared at the guy, trying to wrap his head around it. How the hell had his best friend not only been dating a woman, but maybethewoman, and he hadn’t heard about it? “Kind of your third date? What the hell does that even mean?”
“She’s not... It’s hard to explain. I think maybe she’s been through some stuff so she’s not looking for a relationship. But she likes me and we’ve had coffee a couple of times. Dinner’s next.” He shrugged. “I really like her, so I’m letting her set the pace, you know?”
“Like what kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know. I mean, nothing horrible, I don’t think. But sometimes when she laughs, her face and her eyes light up, and it makes me realize how often that light isn’t there. Or it’s, like, subdued or something.”
That was deep, coming from Grant, but before he could ask more questions about the mystery woman, the tone sounded for an MVA with visible smoke and they were hauling ass.
* * *
The last thing Cait wanted to do after a busy Saturday shift was make her way to the North End, but a busy professional and personal life left her best friend very narrow windows of time for herself.
As it was, squeaking out enough time for tonight’s dinner and wine at their favorite Italian restaurant had taken three weeks to nail down, so Cait didn’t cancel. She sucked it up and showered and changed quickly before heading to the T. There was no way she was driving through the city when she didn’t have to.
When she checked in at the hostess’s podium, she was pointed in the direction of the table where they’d seated Monica. After a quick hug, Cait sat down across from her and took a sip of the white wine Monica must have ordered for her when she got her5 mins awaytext.
“This is so good,” she said, forcing herself to set it down. First she’d quench her immediate thirst with the glass of ice water and then she’d savor the wine. Being drunk on the T wasn’t in Cait’s future plans.
“I didn’t think you’d mind if I picked the wine.”
Cait laughed. She knew nothing about wines and the one time she’d tried to order for them, Monica had intervened before the server could walk away. “Did you order food, too?”
“Of course not. I know how you like to argue with yourself for at least ten minutes and then order something totally different when the server comes.”
“You know me so well. I hope you haven’t been here long.”
Cait and Monica Price had only been friends for a couple of years, but they’d become almost as close as sisters since striking up a conversation in line at a coffee shop because they were both carrying the same book. Actually, as far as Cait was concerned, they were closer than sisters, since she and Michelle weren’t exactly the best of friends.
Monica worked for an insurance company in one of the tall glass buildings in the Back Bay, using her impressive math skills and industry data to make educated guesses about when prospective insurees might die.
“I’ve only been here about ten minutes,” Monica said. “The in-laws are visiting, so I left them to their thing and snuck out to get my nails done before dinner.”
She flashed her hand, showing her perfect, long nails in a fresh coat of a shimmery cream color that looked amazing against Monica’s dark skin, and Cait felt a pang of envy. “Gorgeous as always. I love the color.”
“We should get a manicure together sometimes, although I’d pick a bright red or dark purple for you.”
