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She presses her lips together. “Maybe tea? I won’t be able to sleep if I drink coffee.”
I hold out my hand to her. “Truce?”
She takes my hand, and we silently walk a couple more blocks. I like the feel of her next to me. It’s odd—I don’t normally seek out social connections. And except for attending a black-tie event, I can’t remember the last time I dated someone who wore lipstick and did their nails. Imogen wore gray nail polish and had a small tattoo on her inner wrist.
I stop walking. “This is my hotel.”
I let go of her hand and open the main door. She steps inside and turns to look at me. “It’s a lovely place. It’s nice they have a fire going.”
Imogen removes her scarf and unzips her jacket. I do the same and guide her to the parlor.
I gesture toward two leather chairs flanking the fireplace and say, “I’ll inquire about beverages.”
Finding a staff member near reception, I ask, “Do you have coffee and tea available this evening?”
The man nods. “We also serve hot cocoa, wine, and other after-dinner drinks.”
“I’ll ask my friend.”
The man follows me into the sitting room, staying a discreet distance away.
“Imogen, they also have hot cocoa and wine. What would you like?”
She glances at the man standing nearby and smiles. “Hot cocoa would be amazing. Could you make it with almond milk?”
He nods. “As you wish. For you, sir?”
“Coffee, black. Please.”
Imogen turns towards the fireplace and holds her hands out to feel the heat. “I love an open fire. I rarely get the opportunity to enjoy one.”
I watch the flickering flames. “I make a fire, sometimes daily. It’s something I teach on the different adventures I lead. It’s interesting—people like to know how to create fire. It’s necessary out in the woods for warmth, protection and cooking food.”
She scrunches her eyebrows. “I’ve never started a fire.”
“Kate is good at starting fires. Maybe she should have shown you how she does it?” I spent the previous day trying to figure out how to cover Kate. She started the events arm of the company, but she was getting a name for herself leading all-women tours. Imogen doesn’t have the experience or skill to properly fill her shoes. She’ll need mentoring and time to come up to speed.
“In the middle of Manhattan with a broken elbow?”
I nod. “That would make it difficult.”
The server comes into the room holding a small round tray. He hands me a coffee and Imogen a cup of hot chocolate.
She looks at the man and smiles widely. “Thank you.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He disappears into another room.
Imogen sips her hot cocoa. “It’s delicious. I can’t believe I’m having this by a roaring fire.”
She finds pleasure in small things. She’s an interesting contradiction of openness, sensory experiences, and keeping her opinion to herself. “Do you ever leave New York?”
“Sometimes. My parents retired to South Carolina, so I go there a couple of times a year, and my sister, Ivy, moved to London, so I’ve come here twice.”
I taste the hot coffee, and the strong, bitter flavor relaxes me. “Do you leave the city to go hiking or camping?”
“I grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut. My dad would take us fishing at the piers or to state parks to picnic. But, technically, I’ve never been camping.”
