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Nara
Of course I ended up being late for my date with…what was his name? Oh yeah, Brodie something-or-other.
My team and I had been presenting Mommy Knows to some beta test customers, who were going to try it out for us on their babies. I’d lost track of time, and Mimi was off doing something else so hadn’t been there to rein me in.
Not many people get as enthusiastic as we did when it came to talking about dirty diapers. It was a rare skill.
Luckily, Bella Stella was right around the corner from our office. Actually, that’s why I’d chosen it. I’d spent the money “buying” the date, so I figured I could pick the location. The guy hadn’t had any objections; he’d replied to my invitation with an okay. I just hoped that during our time together, which I was going to make sure was short and sweet, he had something a little more interesting to say than that.
Because the restaurant was right around the corner from my office, the staff there knew me. It was our “place” when we wanted an after work drink or when we had investors to take to lunch. The food was good enough, like most Italian joints in the city, and when you went there often, it felt like home.
Before entering, I straightened out my skirt and smoothed down my hair. I don’t know why, but I wanted to look nice. I also wanted to get the date over with so I could say I’d done it, and have something to report to the gossip machine at Page Six.
I wasn’t going to give this guy the chance to say he’d been “bought” by some disheveled woman with lipstick on her teeth.
I slipped inside, tucking myself next to a booth by the door, staring at the back of a solo man at the bar. I figured it was him. The manager nodded to me from the kitchen where he was cooking something amazing-smelling.
The guy leaned on the bar, nursing some type of brown liquor. Probably a scotch, like every other master of the universe-wannabee in New York. His hair was nice and thick—I’d give him that—and he was wearing a suit. I guessed it was expensive from the fit.
Oh shit, he turned around and looked right at me.
Busted.
But strangely, he just turned back to the bar. Maybe he hadn’t seen me? He looked at his watch and took another sip of his drink.
I waited longer. Of course, it was rude to be late, but I was curious and relished the thought of having someone I was quite sure was overly impressed with himself wait for little old me.
At twelve minutes after the hour—late, but not hideously so—I approached him. He turned at the sound of my clicking high heels, and I put on my best how-ya-doin smile.
I hadn’t realized how good-looking he was until I got closer.
“My date, I presume?” I extended my hand.
He looked surprised as hell as he studied my face and hair. What was that all about? Did I look that bad? My hand flew up to check my hair.
“I’m Nara Kincaid.”
“Hello, Nara, I’m Brodie Harcourt.” He stood and took my hand as I climbed onto the barstool next to his. Chalk one up for good manners. And good lord, he was tall.
His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket. I spotted what I knew was a fancy watch. Some of the high roller investors we’d met with wore the same.
“Excuse me, I’m just gonna respond to my admin’s text.” He typed a couple words and set the device face down on the old wooden bar.
The bartender, who obviously knew me well, delivered a glass of pink bubbly.
He turned to Brodie, “Sir? Would you like a second Macallan?”
I knew it.
He nodded and turned back to me. “So, Nara, I have to be honest with you. I was expecting a redhead.”
I couldn’t help but belt out a laugh.
“Oh, right! My assistant got to the auction before I did and bid on my behalf. I was running late. In fact, I asked her to handle this date for me, but she wouldn’t have any part of it.”
Oh shit. Did I just say that?
He smiled. Or was that a smirk? “And why’d you do that? Try to get her to take the date for you?”
Ugh.
“Oh gosh, I didn’t mean any offense. It’s just that I’m so busy—”
“Do you have a boyfriend or something? A husband?”
“No, no, it’s not that,” I sputtered.
“No?”
I yammered on. “You know, I mean, I didn’t want to do this silly date thing. Who would? I’m happy to support the Avenue A homeless shelter, but Mrs. Dolan twisted my arm to bid on a date. I mean, who bids on a guy in a freaking auction?”
Ugh. Stop talking. Now.
His mouth dropped open, but he snapped it shut just as quickly. Jesus, what was wrong with me? I sucked down my drink and waved the bartender over for another glass of bubbly.
Anything to keep me from talking.
Brodie nodded slowly as if some profound understanding had washed over him. Like he’d realized I’m a big, huge bitch.
Christ.
“Look, I’m sorry. That was rude. I don’t know why I said that.”
My phone buzzed. Mimi! I texted her back.
