That said, she looked great. The workout gear revealed everything her businesslike attire the day before had hinted about. She looked fit and strong, and I felt that little jolt of nerves again that I'd noticed in the office the day before.
It was like I'd never been around a pretty woman before.
"You live near here, Max?" She asked, looking around with a broad smile and an appreciative gaze.
The barista asked for her order and she gave it before I could answer her, and then she turned to face me again, the smile still in place as she slid the dark glasses back on.
"Yeah, just on the bay over there," I said, nodding toward the path that led me home. "Is this where you're staying?" I thought of the low beachfront hotels that lined the path. It was an odd choice for a business trip, but when people came to San Diego, they often wanted to mix business and pleasure. I guessed I couldn't blame her.
Tatum took her coffee when it was ready, and without planning it out loud, we moved together to the low wall facing the beach and sat, our feet dangling as we faced the water side by side.
"It wasn't the original plan," she said. "I was down at the Marina Marriott."
"That's a nice place," I said.
"Yeah, it was. It wasn't that the hotel wasn't nice. It was more a Mom thing." She sipped her coffee and I waited for her reaction, remembering her statement about being picky the day before.
"How's the coffee?"
She pressed her lips together in a satisfied line. "It's actually really good."
"So ... your mom?"
She took another sip, then continued. "I told you about my dad," she said, turning to look at me.
I nodded.
"And Charlie. The dog."
"Right."
"Mom gets lonely," she said. "I invited her to come down here with me before I came, but she didn't think she wanted to. Yesterday she changed her mind, so she's coming down today and bringing Charlie."
"A lot of dog for the Marriott."
"I thought so," she said. "So I rented a little house in Pacific Beach. Just a few blocks from here."
"Well, you'll get a good feel for the real San Diego in PB," I told her. "Living like a local."
She smiled and for a moment we were both silent, facing the ocean and drinking coffee in the sun.
"Can I ask you something?" she asked, turning to look at me again. It was hard to make out her expression with the hat and glasses.
A strange kind of relief made my shoulders relax. Tate was talking. And it was easy and didn't feel forced. Tate was the anti-Julie. She was going to ask ME a question. How novel. "Sure," I said, glad to be back in the regular world where conversation was something both parties created.
"So if you're Mr. ... you know," she said, looking around to make sure we weren't going to be overheard. "Have you used the service? Met your match?"
It was inevitable, of course. A flush of shame crept through me. "Nah," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Really? All this time, and you haven't put yourself into the database?"
I wasn't sure why I was lying to Tate. Part of it was that I worried if she knew the algorithm hadn't actually worked for me it might kill her belief that the company was attractive. But maybe part of it was that it might somehow make me seem less attractive. "Nope."
"Why not?" she asked, her smile fading a bit as if she really didn't understand why I wouldn't. I wouldn't have understood either.
"Guess I just want to keep the business and my personal life separate."
"Are you already matched?" She asked this with a more tentative voice, like she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer, maybe.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
"No," I said. I thought about adding how I didn't have time for a girlfriend, or that I just wasn't ready to share my life. But I'd already lied once. And for some reason, I didn't want to lie to Tate. "My sister set me up yesterday," I said, my mouth divulging this before I'd actually thought about it.
"Oh yeah?" Tate cocked her head to the side, looking interested. "How'd it go?"
"Turns out algorithms are more reliable than sisters."
"That well, huh?"
"It was a waste of an hour. The girl—she was really nice. Just not for me."
"Interesting," she said, putting a finger to the side of her lip, a move that indicated she really did find this interesting for some reason.
"Oh yeah? My abysmal dating life interests you?"
"It's just a bit ironic, isn't it?" She laughed lightly and then lifted an eyebrow. "But why wouldn't you just use the site?"
"I don't know," I said, ready to talk about pretty much anything else. "So the dog arrives today, huh? And your mom, of course."
She nodded. "Yep. Change of subject noted, by the way."
I felt a smile pull my lips wide. Tate was not the kind of woman who was going to let me bullshit her. I found I liked that. A lot.
"So I guess tomorrow I'll have Charlie on my run."
"Is he a good running partner?" I asked.
She chuckled, sipping at her hot coffee carefully. "Well, if by 'good' you mean, does he stagger back and forth, chasing everything he sees and stopping randomly for no reason at all, then yes. He's a great running partner."
I tried to picture this, but I didn't have a lot of experience with dogs. "Honestly, that sounds like a huge pain in the ass."
Tate stared out at the water for a minute over the top of her coffee cup. Her voice was a little softer when she said, "Objectively, yes. Everything about Charlie is a huge pain in the ass. He's gigantic, he's untrained, he's wrecked half my furniture, and he slobbers over all my clothes before I can even get out the door in the morning."
She was quiet again, but I sensed there was more coming, and I didn't interrupt.
"But the thing is ... he's all I have left of my dad." She said this and then turned to look at me, just for a brief second before turning back to face the water, as if her admission embarrassed her somehow.
"I get that," I said. "Totally."
We sat for a few minutes, drinking coffee, listening to the water rolling against the shore and the noise of the tourists and locals passing us on the boardwalk. We weren't talking but there was none of the odd discomfort I'd felt the night before with Julie. This silence was full, somehow.
"Thought any more about what we're going to do with the business?" Tate asked me, her voice turning more businesslike.
"I'm honestly a little torn," I said.
"It's a very successful venture," she said. "It could make you quite a lot of money either way."
"Yeah."
I guess I didn't sound too excited about that, because Tate turned to me and cocked her head. "Yeah? A lot of money doesn't excite you, though, huh?" Her tone made it clear she knew there was something more to my involvement with Mr. Match.
"I never started it for the money." I thought for a long second, considering whether I'd say the words that were on the tip of my tongue. I took a long drink from my cup to buy a little time. "The thing is, you know what you said about Charlie? About him being a connection to your dad?"
"Yeah."
"In a weird way, the business is like that for me. I mean, my dad wasn't around when I built it, obviously. But it was kind of about him. Inspired by him, I guess." I didn't think I'd even admitted that to Cat, and I found myself glad to have the big blue expanse of the ocean to stare at, so I didn't have to look at Tate right then.
"You don't have to do anything with it, Max," she said, her voice gentler than it had been a minute ago. "You can decide not to change things."
"Something needs to change, though," I told her, a certainty I was definitely not going to voice appearing in my mind with sparkling clarity suddenly, as if this conversation had washed away the dust keeping me from seeing it before. "I'm ready to let it go a bit. To step back, at least. It's getting hard, keeping up the front."
It had never served the purpose I'd built it for anyway. It had made m
e money, it had made Mr. Match famous, and I was every bit as alone as I'd been when I built the site. I might have found the formula for love, but all it had proven to me was that I wasn't a candidate for love.
"Okay," Tate said slowly, as if she sensed there might be something I wasn't telling her. "Well, we just need to decide if that means you stepping away but keeping ownership, or selling the business completely."
"I'll think about it more tonight," I told her. "Maybe we can meet tomorrow to start hammering out details?"
"Sure," she said. "I've got today free too, until my mom arrives. If you make a decision and want to chat this afternoon."
Part of me almost jumped ahead, eager to plan to see her again. But I bit my tongue. Tate wasn't here to hang out, I reminded myself. No matter how nice it had been to have a conversation without straining for every word. This wasn't a date, and Tate was not looking for companionship. She had her hands full with her mom and her dog, and I was just a client.
"I'll give you a call tonight," I told her. "And let you know what I think I'd like to do."
"Okay," she said. "Sounds good." She slid off the wall and shook out her long legs, first one and then the other. "It was nice bumping into you, Max."
I stood and turned to drop my coffee cup into a nearby trashcan. "It was nice seeing you too," I said. "See you tomorrow."
We turned and headed off down the boardwalk in opposite directions, and I forced myself not to look over my shoulder and watch her go.
Chapter 7
Walking a Lion
Tatum
Bumping into Max Winchell was unexpected. And not unwelcome. I wasn't the kind of woman who generally got nervous around good-looking men—and Max was definitely good looking—but I'd been just a little surprised at my own reaction to seeing him out for a run. In his natural habitat. He'd looked more relaxed today, though I guess that was bound to be the case when you were out and about in your daily routine, not expecting to run into the venture capital analyst who was helping you divest yourself of a business venture.
I hadn't wanted to intrude, but we'd fallen into conversation so easily, so comfortably. And I found myself revisiting those pleasant moments again as I went through the rest of the day, preparing for Mom and Charlie to arrive. I'd been to the grocery store, the home goods store to pick up some nicer sheets and towels, and to a cute little gift shop on Garnet Avenue that sold candles.
Most of the morning had spun by as I familiarized myself with my new surroundings, and it was nearly five before I was able to call Foster, my manager.
"Hey Tate," he answered. "How's your beach vacation going?"
"Funny," I said. Foster and I had a good relationship. He was almost two decades my senior, but unlike so many of the established analysts at my firm, he didn't seem at all threatened by my ambition, and had taken me under his wing a little bit. "I've met with the client once, and he's going to tell me which direction we're going to head tomorrow for sure. Sale or investment."
"Sounds good," he said. "And you settling in okay? Vicky told me about you calling in to check about a hotel switch or something?"
"Yeah, the cost is the same, but I needed a bigger place. My mom is coming down, so I found a little cottage where we could have the dog."
"Tell Rose hello for me," he said. I had always gotten the feeling that Foster had a little crush on my mom, but since Dad had died, he'd been nothing but respectful and kind. They'd met a few times, since I'd been working for the firm almost a decade now.
"I definitely will."
"Give me a call later in the week to let me know how things progress," he said.
"You got it."
"And try to have some fun for a change, Tate."
"I'm working," I told him, as if I needed to remind my boss of this fact.
"I never have to worry about whether you're working," he assured me. "But sometimes, if I'm honest, I worry whether you're living."
I felt myself grimace. How was I supposed to take that? In a workplace where women were often dinged for being too emotional, too involved with our families and personal lives, I'd made a point of separating my professional and non-professional selves. And Foster wanted me to be less professional? "I live," I said. "I just keep that separate from work."
"I know," he said, sounding almost sad about it. "Just take a breath now and then, okay?"
"How about I bring the firm a really lucrative deal instead?" I wondered if he’d be giving this same advice to a man, but Foster was the guy who’d helped me navigate my life at the firm. He’d never pandered or spoken down to me before, and in fact, he had mentioned before he was grooming me to take his spot as partner.
He laughed and we said goodbye, and then I finished getting Mom's room ready for her, trying not to think too much about the unified song Foster and Mom both seemed to sing at me. Did I work too much? Was I too focused on my professional life?
I'd just begun putting together the pasta dish I was going bake for tonight, so it would be ready whenever Mom arrived, when the phone rang. It was Max. An odd little excitement kicked up in my stomach before I managed to squash it.
"Hi Max," I said, answering the phone.
"Hello Tatum," he said, his deep voice rolling through me. "I think I've made a decision."
Was part of me disappointed to learn this was a work call? What else would it be, though? "Oh really? That's good."
"Yes, I think I'd like to remain involved. At least in the background. Hire in a CEO like you said, to run the business. I'm just not ready to walk away yet."
I was a little bit surprised, but given what he'd said about the site tying him to his dad, maybe I shouldn't have been. "Okay, great. I'll start working on a list of potential executives we might look to involve, and we can dig into financial structure tomorrow, see if you want to raise a round too, maybe expand."
"That sounds good," he said. "Has your mother arrived? Charlie?"
"Not yet," I told him, oddly touched at his interest in my personal life. "Any minute though." I was actually standing near the window, watching the street outside for Mom's car.
"Well, if you need anything while they're here—restaurant recommendations or anything—"
"You've got pull," I laughed. "I remember."
"Sorry, I wondered if that sounded arrogant when I said it."
"No, not really. Just telling it like it is, right?"
"Right," he said, but he still sounded sheepish, like he was speaking through a smile.
"What time would you like to meet tomorrow?" I asked him.
"I'll give you time to get settled with your mom, so maybe, what? Five A.M.?"
I made a noise somewhere between a bark and a laugh. "What?"
"Just kidding," he said, chuckling, his voice warm and amused. "How's eleven?"
"Eleven is good," I said, relieved. "Your office?"
"Yep," he said. "See you there."
"Bye Max," I said, and I put down the phone just as my mother's car pulled up outside, and as I stepped out of the house, my mother stood and waved, then went around and let Charlie out of the car. He leapt from the back and as soon as his paws hit the grassy area at the curb, his huge rear end was wagging and his nose was on the ground. It was like a man afraid of flying finally touching down again, kissing the solid earth.
"Hey guys," I called, walking to the end of the little path from my front door.
Mom moved toward me to hug me, but before she could, Charlie bounded at me, nearly knocking me down as he greeted me by jumping up, putting his big paws on my shoulders and then dropping his head to rest on my right shoulder while he nuzzled his very slobbery snout into my neck.
"Down, Charlie," I told him, but my voice wasn't firm enough and he just grinned at me, his jowls slobbering and his big chocolate eyes dancing. I leaned down, pushing him off, and then gave him a good rub and pushed my nose into his fur while I tried to dry my neck with my shirt. "Here's some grass for you, buddy," I told him, walking him inside the little
white fence out front. "There's a little yard in back, too," I said, looking up to meet Mom's eyes.
"This is nice," she said, sounding tired and maybe a bit uncertain. "Do you think it's enough space for him?"
I gave Mom a hug. "I don't think there's enough space anywhere for a dog this big, but it'll work. We can let Charlie investigate his new grass up here while I help you get your things," I told her.
We went back to the car, and after a few trips, all of Mom's things were inside the house and the car was locked at the curb. Mom went back inside the house, and I let Charlie in behind her.
"It's small," I told them both. "But it'll work for a week. And the owner loves dogs. He wanted to come back and meet Charlie once you arrived."
Mom was peeking into the bedrooms and bathrooms at the back of the house, and she returned to the living room after a moment, gazing around and letting her eyes rest on the large glass door that led to the small grassy yard out back. "I think this is perfect," she said. "Is it close to your work?"
Charlie had finished his own investigation of the house, and I opened the big sliding glass door to let him out back, and then Mom and I stepped into the kitchen, where I got some food ready for the big guy. "It's close enough," I told her. "I guess Max, the CEO, actually lives near here, though the office is downtown."
"You and this Max character have chatted about personal things? Where he lives?" Mom's eyebrows went up. If Max was Mr. Match, she could be called Mamma Match. I didn't tell her much about my non-existent love life because I felt like it got her hopes up too much.
"Not on purpose. I bumped into him this morning when I went down to the beach for a run. We had coffee together."
She raised a suggestive eyebrow as she leaned against the frame of the opening that separated the kitchen from the living room. It probably had been a standard door once, but had been enlarged to give the little house a more modern open floor plan. "Is Max single?" She asked.
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