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CHAPTER THREE
AUSTIN
The whole time we’re eating pizza, I’m thinking about kissing her.
Those soft pink lips. That elegant long neck. Her full breasts.
Farther down, too.
I’m having a great time. She’s down-to-earth and sweet, but challenging in a fun way. She’s already suggested we have a cook-off, and then told me that On the Mark’s women’s gear should have more pockets.
I tell her I’ll have to ask my sister Pippa to consider that.
We talk about the job she just left in Baltimore. “I like Baltimore,” she says, “but I was getting pretty tired of big-city living—and I wasn’t even living in a really big city like New York. Rivertown is big enough that there are cool things to do but people are still friendly.”
“This is true. Tell me, though: there’s no boyfriend waiting for you somewhere?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I’ve been pretty career-focused. Last time I had a boyfriend was in college, and I think I just outgrew him. Something like that.” She sips her drink. “And I like the idea of going to a charity ball on New Year’s, but honestly I’d be just as happy watching the ball drop on TV, eating spray cheese on crackers and texting my friend Maria so we can make fun of the TV hosts, before we wish each other another year to be awesome in.”
That makes me smile.
At some point, she confesses that she feels like an imposter at her job. “It’s just such a great job,” she says, sighing. “It’s absolutely perfect. It’s perfect for me. And it’s so perfect that I’m not sure I can trust it. I keep waiting for somebody to walk in and say, ‘You’re not supposed to be here! This is a mistake! We meant to hire somebody else, so you have to leave now.’” She shakes her head. “I spend every day terrified.”
“I know the feeling.” I explain that it’s been hard getting respect on my own behalf, when it’s my dad’s company. “Imposter syndrome is real.” We sort of bond over that.
Over cannoli and espresso, I find myself complaining about all the holiday parties.
“You don’t like Christmas?” Belinda looks stunned.
“I like Christmas. I just hate the corporate idea of parties at Christmas.” I shrug. “Some of them aren’t even corporate, they’re parties for the boards of nonprofit organizations. As ‘thanks for volunteering your time’ get-togethers, I guess. It seems stupid to me. Why don’t we let people go home a day early for the holidays?”
Belinda raises one shoulder. “Well, you could offer the employees of On the Mark some extra holiday time instead of a party.”
“Next year, I might do that.” I pull out my phone and make a note to look into it, then slip it back into my pocket and look up at her beautiful face. Those eyes, all ocean-colored blue-green and changeable! Who would have thought that a sometime playmate would turn out to be this gorgeous? Still, I wonder if she’s the kind of girl who might turn into a Camille, addicted to fancy dress-up balls and turning up her nose at Netflix and Thai takeout.
“You know, we should probably spend some time together before the big evening. It occurs to me that a girlfriend suddenly showing up out of the blue is just going to cause people to ask more questions. So let’s start doing some things together. Low-key stuff where we can talk.”
“Low-key like…what?” She wrinkles up her cute nose at me. “Beer and wings? Bowling?”
“Do you like to bowl?”
She laughs. “Bowling, yes. Beer and wings, not so much. Make it soft drinks and hot dogs from Riverdogs, and I’m in.”
“Done. Ketchup or mustard?”
“Heavy mustard, light ketchup.”
That is the correct answer, according to my tastebuds. I try another suggestion. “College basketball game and hot pretzels with cheese?”
“Sounds great.”
“Dickens of a Christmas and cookies with mulled cider?”
“Yum.” She’s got such a great smile.
“Ice skating in the park with hot cocoa afterwards?”
Her smile goes soft, and I know this is a good option. “That’s really nice. I love skating.” Then she laughs. “I can’t help noticing that all your proposed date ideas involve food.”
