The more she talks, the clearer my mistake becomes. Finally, I have to ask. “Every time you said you were going to the club...I thought you meant you were going out to party every night. But you were coming here?”
She finally looks at me. “Usually. I still check out other clubs at least once a week. I need to pay attention to what the competition is doing.”
“You knew what I thought?” She could have told me she was going to her own club. Everything could have been different if she'd said something. But that’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? I keep expecting her to just volunteer everything about her life without putting a speck of effort in.
“I didn’t tell anyone about this place, so I suppose, yes, I knew what you thought. I didn’t realize you were judging me so harshly for it, though.” She looks as though she wants to say more but changes her mind. Then, changes it back again. “I have a lot of customers that are here multiple nights a week. They come because they like being in a place that’s fun, with bartenders who remember their names and their favorite drinks. For a lot of them, they dance, they socialize, and they go home alone. They’re good people.”
I open my mouth to explain myself. To apologize again, but I don’t. Now is not the time, and this is definitely not the place. But I hate that she feels she has to defend herself to me.
“This place is different from most of the places we’ve been to,” I say instead. It is. It’s sexier and seemingly more people-focused. Not as much of a meat market as the other clubs Zach took me to.
Zach pulls her attention with another question, leaving me with my spinning thoughts. I fucked up. Big time. There is no doubt about it. The question is, can I recover from it? Cara doesn’t seem like she’s interested in giving me any more chances, but fuck if I’m willing to just roll over and give up. She showed us a part of herself tonight that I’ve never seen before. I didn’t know she owned a business. I didn’t know she’d built something like this for herself.
As shitty as it might have been of me, I honestly looked down on her a bit when I thought she was a partier. Maybe I was comparing her a little to the women Zach attracts at the fucking clubs. The vapid ones. The ones that are all about the good time. Maybe I’m too fucking old, but none of that interested me. Sure, I could talk to them, but there are only so many superficial conversations I can have without losing my mind. And it never seemed to line up with who I knew her to be at work. I couldn’t reconcile the driven, take-charge woman I know with the after-hours party girl.
“How are things going with Maya? You convinced her to come work for you yet?” she asks Zach. I lean back, eager to hear his answer. Happy to think about something other than my dumbass self.
Irritation makes his words crisp. “No. She still won’t take my fucking calls.”
“Have you considered she just doesn’t want to leave her job?” Cara asks.
“Why the fuck would she want to stay? I’m offering her more money and more creative control. What else could there be?”
Cara leans back, absentmindedly rubbing her bottom lip. I can’t take my eyes off her. “Have you considered what else, other than work, might be keeping her in New York? Maybe there’s another reason she doesn’t want to move.”
Zach looks thoughtful. “No, I hadn’t thought of that.” He turns to me. “Dec, can you do a little more digging? See if you can find out more about her?”
“Yeah, man. I’ll look into her some more tomorrow.” I already have a file started on her. I only looked her up at first because Zach was so frustrated by the mysterious M. Miller. Fucker didn’t realize he was headhunting a woman.
“Look into her habits. Maybe she has a tie to the city that you just won’t be able to sever. At least if you know, you can move on and stop obsessing over her.”
“I’m not obsessing. I just wish she’d reply to a fucking email or answer the fucking phone. Why does she have to be so difficult?”
“You don’t really do ‘difficult’ when it comes to women, do you?”
Zach scowls at Cara, making her laugh. She pats him on the leg.
“I’ve got to get back on the floor. My manager called in sick tonight, so I need to keep an eye on things.” She hesitates, looking between us. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” She uncurls herself from the couch, and I pop up when she stands. I almost bow but stop myself. Why am I such an awkward fucker?
She gives me a funny look, then strides off, confidence back in full force.
“How late do you think she’ll have to work?” I ask Zach.
He shrugs. “Club probably closes after three. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s here right up till then.”
“How the fuck does she do that? Work till three, then show up at the office by nine? When does she sleep?”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, how much she’s sacrificed to build this place? Seems like her whole life is work right now.”
“Sacrifice,” I mutter, eyes still on her blonde head. “We understand sacrifice. Nine of us slept in a studio apartment for years. We hustled for every dollar. Everything we have is because of those sacrifices early on.”
Zach eyes me. “Sit down, you awkward fuck.”
“Fuck you.” There’s no heat in the words. I’m barely aware of Zach. My mind is fucking spinning. When Cara heads down a hallway, out of sight, I drop to the couch.
“What’s going on, brother? What’s happening in your head?”
“I fucked up. But I’m going to fix it. I’m going to woo her. I’m going to make her mine.”
