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After an hour, I’d finished working on an ad for Bad Dog that would be used in a monthly magazine to attract new artists. I was satisfied with the freshness and hopeful vibe of the graphic. The label’s copywriter had made it easy to build an ad, using evocative words and phrases that played well with the graphics. All in all, it would be a successful collaboration.
I saved that work, looked at the clock quickly and realized it was time to move. I maximized the window with Callan’s design and saved it in the cloud so I could open it on my tablet. That way, if my muse got chatty with me while listening to his new song, I could work on it.
Using little more than muscle-memory, I loaded my backpack with everything I’d need at his place, then added my digital and film cameras. Then I hurried into my bedroom to change into jeans and a nicer top. I picked out a pair of fun sandals and slid them on while checking the time. Taking a second to order two dozen cookies via Naomi’s website, I smiled because I knew that after she’d finished sniping at me for ignoring her texts and calls, Naomi was going to go bat-shit crazy when I shared what had happened last night, and where I was heading.
I was looking forward to that.
10
CATIE
“You’ve got some ‘splaining to do, Catherine Marlowe,” Naomi shrieked as I strolled through the door.
The yelling was offset by the sweet aroma of sugar, chocolate, fruit compotes, and coffee perfuming the interior of the shop. The cases were loaded with cakes, cookies, brownies, scones and an assortment of biscuits and her homemade cereal bars. Those bars were to die for, and it was evident, since only two remained on what I’m sure had once been a fully-ladened tray.
A couple customers seated at the café tables turned to stare at the unfortunate person Naomi was yelling at—me. Heat hit my cheeks and stayed there as I waved at a group of men I knew to be regulars at the café. Naomi called them her SMPs;Saturday Morning Peeps.A couple of the guys grinned at me, and one smiled wickedly as he scraped one forefinger over the other in ashame, shamegesture.
Naomi wiped her hands on a rag as she came around the counter. She grabbed my elbow and practically pulled me off my feet as she dragged me through the swinging doors to the kitchen. The door closed behind us with aswoosh, swashsound, cutting off the laughter of the SMP club.
“Where have you been, missy?” Naomi’s brown eyes snapped fire and concern.
“At home?”
“Why ignore my calls if you were at home? I imagined all kinds of things.”
I held back a laugh. “I hope some of them good.”
Naomi cocked her head and grinned. “Well maybe one or two good things. Because of whom you were with.” She winked. “But I kind of thought maybe you’d have called me with a full report of the details last night.”
“Hang on, girlfriend. Weren’t you out on a date last night? I didn’t see you burning up the phone lines with a report of that.” I strolled across the room to the coffee pot I knew would be filled with Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee. The mild flavor and lack of bitterness made it the perfect splurge. And normally, she didn’t mind sharing with me.
Today, she raced over and pulled the thermal carafe away from me before I could splash any in a cup.
She held the pot high over my head, a feat easily achieved, given my height, and clucked her tongue at me. “Uh-uh. First you spill the beans, then you get to drink the bean water.”
I heaved out a dramatic sigh for affect, then relented. “First, it was not a date—”
“It was so very much a date,” Naomi broke in.
“—and second,” I continued without missing a beat. “For a non-date, it was exceptional.”
Naomi hopped onto the surface of her desk and clasped her hands between her knees. She nodded, as though to tell me get on with it.
“We met at Beaman Park, which you knew was the plan. I got some great shots for the cover art while we were still in the parking lot. I thought I’d captured the perfect image, but we went ahead and hiked up to the observation tower. I took a bunch more there. And Callan took one too. A selfie of us.” I withdrew my phone from my back pocket and opened my photos app and smiled.
Naomi snatched the phone from my fingers and studied the image. “OMG! That’s…that’s…” She beamed a smile at me. “That’s going to be your official engagement picture.”
“Naomi!” I tried to grab my phone back, but she jerked her hand away.
“Yep. That’s perfect. Look how he’s looking at you instead of at the camera. That’s as swoony as engagement pictures come.”
She wasn’t wrong, but we weren’t anywhere near a possible engagement. “Listen, Callan Wilder is my client. Our relationship is strictly professional. There isn’t a damn thing romantic about us.” Except that kiss last night. That had been romantic and perfect.
Naomi must have seen it in my face because she shrieked. “You are such a bad liar, Catie Marlowe. You suck. Now tell me what you really think.”
Oh jeez.She wasn’t going to stop until I told her everything, because that is what best friends do. I’d have to spill this fast so I could grab my cookies and leave to make it to Callan’s place for the recording. I snaked out my arm and grabbed my phone back. “After we finished at the park, he wanted to see the pictures, so—”
She gasped. “No he didn’t! What did you do?” Naomi knew about my rule on images. I never shared.
