Page 25 of Book Club Confidential

Her smile grew as the elevator reached its destination, and she headed into the day. Tessa’s friends weren’t just supporting her on this quest. They were fighting right beside her for a life they loved, and that knowledge had her standing taller. Kate and Hallie deserved to get exactly what they wanted from life. And she loved that Kate had shared their big questions with her followers. It was too bad that more people hadn’t responded to the post.

Change always comes with growing pains, she thought. She’d struggled for months to incorporate jogging into her life, but now she couldn’t imagine living without it. She just had to keep going until putting herself first instead of last became easy and instinctual.

She joined the throngs of people on the sidewalks, all in a hurry, all carrying something. Lattes or shopping bags, babies or street tacos. Tessa checked her phone again to make sure that Grant received her message. A small thumbs-up response confirmed he had.

She crossed the street near a caramel apple vendor and took the winding hike and bike trail toward the river. A large brick patio broke up the gentle rolling hills of plush green grass in the distance. Tables with matching wrought iron chairs and brightly colored umbrellas peppered the space beside a line of food trucks busily feeding the crowds.

She made her way over the cobblestone bridge and through the grass toward the tables as a local band played the opening notes to “Cotton Eye Joe.” A mass of children shifted into dance mode, wiggling and laughing to the high-energy tune.

Tessa did her best not to stumble when she spotted Grant in the distance.

He sat alone at a table near the water, one foot atop the opposite knee. Dark glasses covered his eyes, and he rose when he saw her.

She ignored the senseless flutter of anticipation in her chest. Food trucks and the river always excited her. She blamed Hallie and her dad, respectfully, for that. She’d grown up on the riverbanks, chasing butterflies by day and lightning bugs by night. In high school, she’d shared her biggest confidences, her fears, and her dreams here, with friends and on dates. Her excitement was natural. And it had nothing to do with Grant Gaines.

Probably.

“Hey,” he said. “Thanks for meeting me. You look—” He paused, offered a self-effacing grin, and shook his head, obviously thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say. “Happy.”

She fought against a laugh and lost. He’d noticed the flirty, feminine ensemble she’d chosen instead of her usual work attire. “Thanks,” she said. “I am. And I’m calling this my take-a-stand dress.”

“Ah.” He motioned for her to have a seat. “What are we taking a stand against today?”

“We?”

His lips slid into a full grin. “Whatever made your hit list, I’m in. Who’s going down?”

“Patriarchy.”

“A worthy cause,” he agreed. “In that dress, though—” He leaned slightly forward over the table, moving the sunglasses down his nose as he examined her red heels before returning to meet her stare. “You won’t need me. Patriarchy doesn’t stand a chance.”

Tessa laughed. “Let’s hope you’re right,” she said. “Tomorrow I’ll try to find my boots that are made for walking.”

The moment of eye contact sent waves of gooseflesh over her arms.

Grant eased back in his seat, returning his sunglasses to their proper position. “Thanks for meeting me on short notice. I hope my impulsive invite won’t deter you from working with me.”

“If your spontaneity gets me lunch by the river, I’ll allow it.” She tipped her chin to the sky, relishing the warm sun on her cheeks. “What prompted the lunch date?” she asked, cringing inwardly at her word choice.

His brows rose slightly. “I just wanted to buy you lunch.”

She opened her mouth to protest, or clarify, but he interrupted.

“As a professional, tax-deductible business expense,” he assured.

Something in his expression suggested his explanation wasn’t the whole truth. She decided to allow that too. “In that case, I’ll have two tamales.”

Several minutes later, Grant returned with two paper boats of tamales and two plastic-lidded cups of sangria. The Tico’s Tamales truck’s special of the day.

They ate in companionable silence for a few moments, Grant clearly enjoying the local band and Tessa sneaking peeks at the impressive view across her table.

Grant was taller than she remembered, and the wind in his slightly too-long brown hair gave him a youthful charm. She tracked the fluffy strands as they lifted and fluttered against his forehead. Then she gave herself a stern reminder that he was a customer and a human, not to be ogled, and went back to work on her tamales.

“You sold the bookstore,” she said, pausing for a sip of sangria.

Grant wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I did.”

She took time to appreciate the sweet, tart, and complex flavors before continuing. Rushing was a bad habit. She rushed through lunch too often. In fact, she should eat lunch by the river more. Maybe even bring her laptop and work at a table in the shade some afternoon.