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Let’s hope so. My gaze strays to the ring on my finger. It looks surreal. But maybe my wedding won’t be a topic of conversation at dinner.
I yank open the door and head inside. Vance waves me over to a table where he’s seated with Yasmin, an elegant woman with long black braids. She rises to greet me, then drops a kiss onto each cheek. “Nate, I hear congratulations are in order,” she says as she steps back.
So much for lying low.
“Thanks, Yasmin. It was a whirlwind,” I say, then I bite my tongue. Shit. Do four months count as a whirlwind? Did I use the right word?
Vance shoots me a shut up and say less smile. Someday I will write a book about the warnings my agent can convey with his collection of smiles.
“Tell me everything,” Yasmin says, tapping the table, her thin gold bracelets jangling against each other.
I wing it with a SparkNotes of the truth. “We met one afternoon this summer in San Francisco,” I say. Maybe Hunter and I should have prepped our backstory. But is anyone really interested in the details? “And we hit it off right away,” I add with finality and a smile.
I’m not the most effusive guy, so I hope this tale satisfies her.
She rubs her palms together. “I love how we met stories. My wife and I met at a festival. I was selling my energy bars. She was making candles and selling them in the booth next to mine. I bought three of her eucalyptus candles as I worked up the nerve to ask her out,” Yasmin says.
Does this mean she wants the same level of detail from me? I don’t want to give up the whole pie-on-my-face story, but I do like endorsing her energy bars.
“That’s a great story, Yasmin,” Vance cuts in, plastering on his I love everyone grin. “And you and your wife have been together for how long now?”
“Five years. Tell me more about you and Hunter,” Yasmin says, returning her focus to me, undeterred. “He works for Webflix, doesn’t he?”
“He does,” Vance answers for me then taps the menu. “How about we order? Nate’s always hungry. You know how it goes with football players.”
“I did have a long practice today,” I say, going with his save.
Yasmin waves at the menu with a guilty smile. “Of course, of course. Let’s do that.”
After we place our orders, the bell tinkles above the door, announcing more customers. I don’t expect to hear someone stage-whisper my name. “Nate.”
I turn toward the familiar voice. It’s Reese, the PR woman for my team. But she’s not alone. She’s with Ilene, the Webflix exec I met the other night outside our locker room in San Francisco.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Reese says, then gestures to the cheery pink-haired woman by her side. “You remember Ilene.”
“Of course,” I say, standing to shake Ilene’s hand again. Then I gesture to Yasmin. “This is—”
“I know Yasmin,” Ilene says brightly. “Less is More is one of our sponsors for the games.”
Right. Of course.
Yasmin and Ilene hug like old friends. Then Ilene turns to me, her lips quirking up, her gray eyes twinkling. “Hunter’s just finishing up at the office. I’m sure you’re eager to see him soon.”
See him, go out with him, and fuck him senseless.
“I am,” I say, keeping my answer at a safe-for-work level.
“Oh!” The excited noise comes from my sponsor. “Do you want to invite him to join us for dinner?”
Vance’s face goes blank. But I can read that expression too—say no.
Except no would look bad, wouldn’t it? “I’m sure Hunter’s busy,” I deflect. “He was saying this morning he had a lot to do.”
“Actually, he’s just leaving.” Ilene reaches into her purse and whips out her phone. “I wouldn’t work him that hard. Everyone needs a break. I’ll just call him right now.”
Reese cuts in, “I’m sure Nate wants to just finish his business dinner, though.”
I’m going to send her chocolate when we’re back home. Of course I want to see Hunter, but I don’t want to be in the spotlight.
“Oops, too late,” Ilene says to us, unapologetic. Then to the phone, “Hunter, I’m here with your husband. Come join us.”
Ten minutes later, Ilene has corralled the server into sliding her table next to ours just as the man with the ring that matches mine walks into the restaurant.
It’s showtime.
28
A TOTAL STUD
Hunter
Bungee jumping is scarier than a dinner with everyone who matters in my career and my husband’s.
Not by much though.
When I reach the table for six, Ilene pats the seat next to her. I take it, sitting across from my husband, who’s between Reese and Vance.
But wait.
Did I do my entrance wrong?
Was I supposed to stop at Nate, set my hands on his shoulders, then drop a kiss to his scratchy cheek for their benefit?
