by Lauren Runow
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says as he steps back and rounds the car to the driver’s side.
“Bye.” I wave as I head into my place, rubbing my head, still unsure of what we are.
The only negative about working for a media company is that television doesn’t take a holiday, so neither do we. Three days after Christmas, I’m back in the saddle, working on my daily report.
“Morning, Katherine.” Branson enters the office, wearing a herringbone suit and his dazzling smile. He even has on a silk tie and matching handkerchief, the one he usually reserves for special occasions.
“You’re looking extra dapper today,” I respond, handing him a printout of his schedule for the day.
He pauses by my desk and takes a deep breath. “I was hoping you’d say so. I woke up this morning and felt like putting on a little something special today.” He motions toward his office. “Join me for a second.”
I stand, and he ushers me to walk in front of him.
I wait by his desk and watch as he hangs up his coat before taking his seat in his large leather chair. I have my notepad in hand, ready to get to work on whatever he has for me today.
“Put that down for a bit. I want to ask you something.” He motions toward the guest chair. “Have a seat.”
I do so and place the pad on my lap. “Okay, shoot.”
“The event I’m going to on New Year’s Eve, the one you graciously emailed me the details of last night, I was thinking it over, and I have a splendid idea. I’d like for you to join me.”
My heart skips a beat. A formal gala at the Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center with the glistening lights of the city below and the magic of New York City during the holidays while drinking champagne—it’s quite possibly the best way I can imagine spending New Year’s Eve.
“Join you? This isn’t a work event. Well, okay, it kind of is, as it’s hosted by the American Media Council, but it’s not something you need an assistant for.”
He leans his elbows on the desk and steeples his hands. “I want you to come as my plus-one.”
“I’m sorry. You want me to—”
“Come, so I can introduce you to the who’s who of the media world,” he says in a booming voice, his arms raised out, as if this is the invitation to end all invitations. “I think it’s time we start working on your next step here with Empire Media. This will be the perfect event to do so. You can’t be my assistant forever. It’s time you start getting ready to take a role in market strategy. There will be many people there you’ll only benefit from knowing as you assume your new position with this company.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I try to hide my smile. “You really think I’m ready?”
“You have that presentation coming up. After which, I’d be a fool to keep you strapped to your desk. Not when every producer in the building will be eyeing you to come work for their show. I’m a smart man and a greedy one. I want you to move up, and that all starts with the New Year’s Eve soiree. What do you say?”
My eyes widen as I take in this enormous opportunity. People at my level of the industry are never invited. Shoot, even Hunter wasn’t invited.
“Oh, um, well, yes. Of course I’ll be there.” I smile brightly, excited for the chance.
“Wonderful.” He sits up and reaches for his wallet in his coat pocket. “I want to treat you to more than the spa day I already got you for your holiday bonus. I have my card on file at Saks Fifth Avenue. Give Jasmine a call; she’s expecting you. Pick out a dress for the evening; it’s black tie, as you know.” He grins playfully because I have black tie written in all caps at three different locations on his calendar, so he doesn’t miss it.
I hold up my hand in protest at his offer. “No, Branson, I can’t let you pay for my dress. I have something I can wear.” It’s actually a lie. I have absolutely nothing to wear, and I spent my last paycheck on an overpriced green dress.
“Please.” He hands me Jasmine’s business card again. “I insist. You’ve been so great to me. It’s time I repay the favor and help you in ways you’ve helped me. Plus, this is entirely too much to ask for you to pay for a dress to an event that has a mandatory black-tie dress code.”
I reluctantly grab the card and look at the engraved lettering. They say it’s not about what you know, but who you know. This event is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for someone in my position. Being dressed to impress is in my best interest. “Okay, thank you.”
“I should be thanking you, love.” Branson rises, and I follow.
His arms are out, and as he walks around the desk, I see he wants to give me a hug. He’s never done this before. Then again, he’s never asked me to go to a gala with him before either. I walk into his arms and momentarily find myself lost in the scent of peppermint.
There’s a knock on the door, and when I turn, I see Hunter with a confused yet stoic expression covering his face.
I pull away from Branson and quickly put my hands to the sides. Branson, however, keeps an arm around my shoulders.
“Hunter, come in,” he calls out.
“You wanted to see me?” Hunter asks Branson, holding up his phone, like he just got an email. His gaze, however, is focused on me and Branson’s arm on my shoulders. “Good morning, Katie.”
“Hi,” I say shyly, for no other reason than it feels great to see him again. I haven’t heard from him since he dropped me off at my apartment.
Hunter doesn’t say anything else, but the way his eyes are burning a hole in Branson’s hand on me says enough.
“I’ll leave you two,” I say, moving out of Branson’s arm. “Can I get you anything?”
“Yes. Coffee, please,” Branson says as Hunter shakes his head in decline.
I brush my knuckle against Hunter’s as I walk to the door. He doesn’t make a move back, which is surprising. Last week, he kissed me in front of Branson when we were just friends. Now, we’ve slept together, and he won’t even touch my hand.
I bow out to get the coffee.
Iris and Janice are in the break room, chatting away about Lord knows what. I excuse my way past them to get a to-go cup.
“Katie, what’s this I hear about you and Hunter being a thing?” Janice asks in a very gossipy sort of way.
I cringe inwardly, hating being the topic of office rumors. I don’t say anything as I spin and raise my eyebrows to them in question.
Janice rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. Everyone knows.”
Being that our boss knows, I suppose it shouldn’t shock me. I close my eyes briefly and raise a shoulder. “It’s very new.”
Her jaw drops like she’s totally baffled by this information. “Oh my God! So, it’s really true. You’re sleeping with Hunter Johnstone!”
My eyes widen, and my face feels like it’s turning beet red. “Who told you that?”
Iris shakes her head with a laugh as Janice fans herself as if it’s the hottest thing she’s ever heard.
“You just did,” Iris explains. “Don’t let this one bait you. She did it to me, too, when I went out with Hunter.”
My entire gut drops to the ground. Knowing someone you’re with dated others before you is fine, but being part of the conversation doesn’t feel good.
Janice nudges Iris. “Be good to this little sweetheart. Katie here thinks when you sleep with a guy, wedding bells will ring.”
“No, I don’t,” I say, but she doesn’t seem to hear me.
“Listen, honey, sex means nothing, and you shouldn’t assume anything. Some guys lose interest as soon as they get some, especially if they had to work hard for it,” Janice states matter-of-factly.
“Why do you have to make it sound so crude?” Iris playfully hits her hand.
Janice places her hand on her hip. “Because men are crude. They’re sex-brained maniacs who will leave you after two weeks and move on to the next able and willing warm body. Don’t get things twisted.”
“Not every guy is like that,” I defend the man species by not clump
ing them all together.
She tilts her head down at me in a condescending way. “So, you still have your fairy-tale bubble in place then? Don’t worry; Hunter Johnstone will pop”—she acts like she’s popping a bubble around my head with a needle—“that little bubble of yours, sweetheart. Just wait. It’s bound to happen. Two weeks, and he’s out!”
Iris and I meet eyes, and I’m stuck on what to say—not because I feel bad for her, but because I’m nervous about my own situation. Hunter always moves on after two weeks. And there I was, sleeping with him after only a week. Am I going to be like everyone else he’s dated?
“Don’t listen to her.” Iris waves her hand, shooing Janice away. “She’s just jealous.”
“Of course I am. He’s a total dish,” Janice explains. “All right, I have to get back to work. Good luck, sweetie.” She gives me a pat on the shoulder, as if I need the luck before a big game.
Janice’s loud and nosy self is out of the room quickly, but my thoughts are left as a pile of mush. I turn back to the coffeepot and pour Branson a cup. I fix it just the way he likes it—no milk and four sugars.
The room is quiet, but Iris’s presence on the other side is deafening. I wish she’d leave. Having my affairs aired in public is uncomfortable enough.
“Hey, don’t let Janice get you all worked up,” Iris says from behind me.
I shake my head indifferently. “It’s fine.”
“How long have you two been dating?”
I bite my lip. “A week. How long did you …”
“Does it matter?”
“No”—I shake my head and look down—“I guess not.”
“Can I offer you some advice?” she asks.
I want to reply no. But I don’t. I just look up with a pretend smile and wait for her unwanted guidance.
“Have fun.”
I flinch in surprise as those words are a thousand percent not what I thought would come out of her mouth. “Excuse me?”
She laughs as she tilts her head. “The first rule about dating Hunter Johnstone is to take his grand gestures with a pinch of salt. He’s not out to deceive. It’s just that his outgoing, optimistic, and enthusiastic nature makes him hard to resist, and he gets caught up in the moment even if the moment is fleeting.”
I have to smile, albeit awkwardly, because her assessment of him seems pretty spot-on. “You make him sound shallow.”
“He’s wicked and a hell of a good time. So, do yourself a favor and enjoy it. Ride it out, but remember what it is. A fling. Hunter is incapable of the long-term. He’s upfront about that.”
I nod my head and swallow. “That he is.”
She gives a friendly punch to my shoulder. “So, go get yours, girl. Enjoy the best sex of your life and toss it in the book of things you’ll fantasize about twenty years from now.”
Her light-headedness is the complete opposite of how I feel inside. I want to curl up in a corner with my cat and binge-watch Hallmark movies while I eat a pint of ice cream.
“Is that such a thing?” I say with a laugh.
“Of course it is.” Iris reaches out to touch my arm. “Listen, don’t let anyone pop that bubble of yours. Especially Janice. Obviously, there are men out there who stay with women for longer than two weeks. We just have to find them, is all.”
She gives a wink and then turns to walk away. I follow her out and make my way to Branson’s office, all the while trying not to fall down that rabbit hole of self-doubt anymore.
When I get there, Hunter is gone, and I’m left with my thoughts.
My very scattered thoughts.
I’m tapping my pen against my desk, staring into Branson’s office, waiting for him to leave. His car is already outside to take him to the gym, as it does every day after work.
I look at the time and blow out a breath. I really wanted to get to my own Pilates class, so I could be home in time to watch my Hallmark movies.
Finally, Branson gets up and grabs his coat. “Are you coming?” he asks as he walks past my desk.
I raise my brows. “Um, coming where?”
“To the club. I figured Hunter would have invited you. We play racquetball together on Mondays. Tonight is the playoff tournament.”
“No, he didn’t, but it’s okay. I’m heading to my own gym and then home.” I grab my coat.
“No, come on. Join us. Let’s surprise Hunter. He’ll get a kick out of it.”
I pull my ponytail over my collar. “No, I’ll see him later.”
“Come, love. It will be fun. You can even use the gym there as my guest. I hear the women’s locker room has a steam shower and sauna.”
I smash my lips together. My gym is nice, but it doesn’t have fancy amenities.
“You’re thinking about it.” He bows down and looks at me with a Cheshire cat grin.
Branson is never this playful. It’s adorable beyond measure.
I exhale and nod my head. “Okay.”
“Great.” He lifts my gym bag off the floor by the coat rack and places his hand on my back to guide me out of the office.
Branson’s car is waiting in the garage, and when he opens the door for me, a funny feeling runs through my body. For years, I wanted this, exactly what’s happening right now. I’m getting in Branson’s car, after work, to go somewhere with him that’s not work-related, yet I can’t understand what’s going on in my mind. I’m excited even though I know I shouldn’t be. I’m with Hunter. It might not be official, but I slept with the man, and I do not jump into bed with men willy-nilly.
“Everything okay, love?” Branson asks.
I jump, startled for some reason, and turn to him. I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost forgot where I was. “Yeah. Sorry, just tired, I suppose.”
I smooth my outfit down my body, wiping my now-sweaty palms on my dress slacks. Branson widens his legs as he leans back in the seat.
“I missed you on Christmas Eve. We had a great time at the club,” he says.
“You dance?” I ask.
“Not really. I enjoy the music and the company. It would have been better if you had been in the booth with me.”
I smash my lips together. “Perhaps another time.”
His smile broadens, and those pristine, gleaming white teeth that make him so damn handsome light his face up even more. “I’d like that very much.”
We make it to the Athletic Club and walk through the lobby. Branson shows me where the women’s locker room is, and he understated it when he mentioned the steam shower. This place has all the luxuries of a high-end gym. There are walnut-colored lockers prettier than my kitchen cabinets, personal steam stalls, and vanities that are stacked with beauty products. There are even massage rooms, many of them in use.
I change into my workout gear—black yoga pants and a sports tank top that shows off my lower midriff. I tie my sneakers and place my bag in a locker.
The gym is a level above, overlooking the indoor pool. I hit up the elliptical for twenty minutes and then do some light circuit training.
When I’m done, I head downstairs, grab my bag from the locker room, and walk around in search of the racquetball courts. The sounds of sneakers screeching against a court are loud as I walk down a hall. Men are standing in the doorway, watching a match. Up above, I see a viewing platform with people hanging out.
Inside the court, Hunter is whacking the ball with his racket, making it pop against the wall as it ricochets back with force.
Branson is leaning against the wall, watching Hunter play.
“I thought you two played together?” I ask as our eyes volley along with the guys.
“We’re in the singles playoffs tonight. I won the last game. Whoever wins this round will play me in the championship,” he states.
I whistle. “I didn’t know it was so competitive.”
“You have no idea,” Branson states just as Hunter runs for the ball, hitting it across the court, making it touch the wall just in bounds and bouncing it back to where his opp
onent can’t get to it.
Hunter wins the game. As he wipes the sweat from his brow, he shakes hands with the man he was playing against and then turns toward the door.
When his eyes land on me, he acts confused.
“What are you doing here?” he asks in disbelief. His gaze roams toward Branson and then to me, eyeing my gym attire.
“Branson invited me to see the playoffs.”
He squints his eyes at Branson and then turns back to me. “I’m glad he did. I see you got a workout in as well. Good for you.”
Branson extends a hand to Hunter. “Well-played match. I look forward to whooping your ass out there. Hope you’re not too worn out.”
Hunter shakes his hand. “Just getting started. See you out there.” His joke makes Branson laugh as he walks away to his side of the court.
I bite my lip as I glance down at my hands. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding. I was heading home and—”
“Hey.” He leans in and lifts my chin. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ll get to impress you with my athleticism. Though it might be awkward when I kick Branson’s ass in front of the girl he’s trying to impress.”
He flexes his muscles playfully, and I laugh.
“He’s not trying to impress me.”
He leans forward and kisses my lips. It’s fast yet deep and with just the right amount of tongue.
“Baby, we’re all trying to impress you,” he says.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He smiles. “You have no idea.”
He quickly raises his eyebrows a few times before heading back to the game. I lay my fingers over my mouth and savor that kiss.
Branson is on the far side of the court. He’s staring directly at me. I smile and wave.
Hunter sees and tilts his head at me. I brush him off with a silly expression.
Feeling better about being here, I take a spot behind the glass wall and watch the game. Branson serves, and the two begin their battle. The ball hits the front wall and then the sidewall, and then it lands outside a line painted on the wood floor.
Hunter returns, and they volley until someone yells, “Side-out.”