“What does that mean for us?” Brooklyn asked with the hopeful eyes reminiscent of a Disney princess.
“It means…we’re on hold. We may lose their business altogether, and if so, that means we need to replace it. It means I need to hustle. Brooklyn and Hunter need to dazzle on the creative so much that our current clients can’t get enough of us, and Sam needs to make some money magic happen so we can stay in the loft despite the crazy rent hike. That might mean a whole new monthly budget. Starting from scratch.”
But the larger problem settled over Samantha and she met Mallory’s gaze grimly. “We’re not getting paid on those outstanding invoices, are we?”
The subtle shake of Mallory’s head caused Sam to inhale at what a blow that would be. They’d been floating Foster’s bill for several months now on good faith, thinking they’d just gotten caught up in the paper clog of a large corporation’s accounting department. But she’d been counting on that money. The four of them spent the majority of their time working on Foster projects. And now with the rent so much higher, she didn’t know how in the world they were going to have done all of that work for free.
“This is bad,” Sam said to Mallory, and then proceeded to explain to the others the outstanding invoices, the true state of things.
“How is that possible?” Brooklyn asked, infuriated. “We did that work. We deserve to be paid.”
“It’s possible we still might be,” Mallory said. “But it probably won’t be for a while.”
“So you’re saying we need to step it up a little to split the difference?” Brooklyn asked.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Brooklyn sighed. “Okay, but can I just say that this sucks? I think we’re going to need afternoon Pinkberry to survive this. The S’mores kind. I nominate Hunter to go get them midafternoon. The counter girls love her and then we get extra toppings.”
“I second this idea. That’s why we keep you,” Mal said to Brooklyn.
“Just earning my keep, boss.”
Hunter stood and gave a nod and easy smile. “I accept my mission.”
See, that right there annoyed Sam. The cavalier attitude. The mission to make girls swoon. It was whatever. Samantha resisted a visible eye roll but she definitely participated in one internally. As Brooklyn and Mallory headed back to their desks to work on the accounts still in play, Hunter lingered in the kitchen with Samantha a moment longer.
“Maybe we could talk later about last night?”
Samantha felt her cheeks redden, suddenly on the spot. “Um, sure. Of course. If you want to.”
“I do.”
Samantha stole a sideways glance across the office and dropped her voice further. “But not here. I don’t want to involve…”
Hunter’s eyes widened instantly. “No. Definitely not. We can talk tonight. Just us.”
“Perfect. I’ll be home.”
Hunter nodded. “And I’ll be home, too.”
“Great. Both home. So we can talk.”
“And we will,” Hunter said.
“See you then.”
Hunter hesitated. “I mean, I’ll see you around the office first. And I’ll be getting you Pinkberry later, so…”
“Right,” Sam said, jumping in. “We’ll both be around, probably.” God, this was the most awkward ever. Sam hated it.
“But…tonight is best. Yeah.”
Hunter turned on her heel and headed back to her desk, cursing herself and her inability to speak to Samantha like a functioning human. Maybe it was because Sam was in her relaxed mode today. She wore a navy blue skirt and red short-sleeved knit top with her hair down and luxurious. She looked great, and thereby Hunter was apparently relegated to sixteen years old and tongue-tied. But damn it, she wasn’t even like that when she was sixteen. Where the hell were her moves? She’d been a stammering, staring idiot.
Four hours later, she put herself to the test at Pinkberry.
“Hunter, right?” The girl behind the counter grinned widely. It was the same girl from last time. Blond, shoulder-length hair, with a stud through the top of her ear and a smiley face tattooed on her right wrist.
“That’s right. And you’re Kayla.” Hunter was great with names. It was a skill she’d picked up early in her flirting career. This seemed to make the girl infinitely happy.
“How is your day today?” Kayla asked.
“I’ve had better, but it’s starting to look up about now.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She inclined her head, employing the head tilt/direct eye contact combo that always seemed to elicit a blush. “Definitely.” Wait for it. One, two, three, and full-on blush. Perfect. She could feel her confidence crawling its way back to her.
“So what can I put together to make your day even better?” Kayla asked.
“Three medium S’mores for my friends and a Watermelon Cooler for me. Light and refreshing on a warmer day, you know?”
Kayla stared at her for a moment before snapping to attention. “Right. Yes. I definitely know.” She wiped her forehead. “It is warm in here, isn’t it?”
“I meant outside.”
Kayla looked stricken. “Of course.”
“But I’m starting to feel the heat you mentioned.”
A second blush. Perfect. Kayla gave her head a little shake. “I’ll get your order ready.”
“Thanks, Kayla. You’re my favorite. Oh, and my friends wouldn’t mind extra chocolate chips. I mean, if you have any to spare.”
“Anytime, Hunter. Just ask for me next time. I’ll get you set right up.”
As Hunter walked from Spring Street back to the loft with the bag containing four small frozen yogurts, she did so with a confident stride. It turned out she wasn’t broken after all. She just seemed to lose her power around one particular person. Not a major crisis. Just something she would work on.
*
“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to follow me into every room. You probably have stuff to do.”
Elvis stared up at Samantha in response, his stubby little tail thwacking back and forth. “Listen, you’re very handsome. I concede this. But I already scratched your ears and your stomach and tossed that fake newspaper for you like eight times since I’ve been home from work, and it was kind of a hard day. We lost a major client, Elvis. You feel me? So what more can I do for you?”
Elvis upped the ante and now it appeared that his entire body wagged.
“Yes, you’re adorable and I really, really like you, but I don’t know how to help you further. Your mom should be home soon.” She turned and walked through the door to her bedroom, Elvis still at her heels. This dog came with a lot of pressure. He had apparently developed some sort of affinity for her, and his attention, while complimentary, was not something she was used to. She didn’t know quite what he needed, but she was tempted to offer him a cocktail. Lord knows she could use one.
As Elvis looked on from the spot he favored on her bed, she changed from her work attire into her denim capris and a heathered pink T-shirt, and scrunched up her toes in celebration of no work shoes. She then went about making some pasta and pesto sauce in the kitchen, the same kitchen she’d had her world rocked in just hours prior. She tried not to dwell on the world rocking.
Mid-stir, the door slid open and Hunter strolled in, her messenger bag diagonal across her body. “Hey,” she said to Samantha.
“Hi. Want some pasta?”
“I definitely do. That smells amazing. What is it?” Hunter bent down to greet Elvis, kissing his face, and slid her bag off her shoulder. “Solve all of the world’s problems today, Elvis? You’re helping Samantha cook, I bet. You excel at cooking.”
“He’s okay. Honestly, he could do a little more stirring and a little less staring.” She inclined her head to the pot. “And that is pesto sauce. Ennis specialty. My mom passed it down.” Okay, good. This was feeling fairly normal, and she so needed normal right now.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Grab some plates.”
Hunter did as she was told and set the table for them both. “So that was crazy today. The Foster deal.”
Samantha shook her head. “I just wish we’d had more warning. I would have been more conservative with last month’s receivables, you know?”
Hunter shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Money magic. My mind just doesn’t work that way.”
Sam set the bowl of pasta on the table next to the salad she’d thrown together. “But mine does. Keeps things interesting.” She shrugged. “I like the black and white of it. The structure. It’s something I can control.”
“You like to be in control of things, that’s for sure.”
“What? And you don’t?”
Hunter leaned back in her chair. “I think we can both agree that I’m a little more go with the flow.”
“That’s true. You do your laundry on whatever day of the week you want. It’s barbaric.”
“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone.”
Samantha sat a bit taller. “Sunday is for washing clothes. It’s the perfect day for it.”
“Of course it is. And on the seventh day, God did laundry. Everyone knows this.”
Sam laughed. “You’re teasing me again.”
“I have to. You know this.”
“That part’s true.”
As they settled into dinner, Sam was smiling because things seemed to be falling back into place. She and Hunter had reclaimed their easy rhythm, and it felt so comfortable that Sam relaxed for the first time in sixteen hours. Plus she’d poured them each a glass of Merlot, so that helped. And God, the sauce had turned out great. She should open a sauce shop. Sam’s Sauce. She’d rock sauce sales.
As they ate, Hunter glanced over at her thoughtfully. “I dare you to change it up.”
Samantha raised a curious eyebrow. “You dare me to change what up?”
“Do your laundry on Thursday this week.”
“You mean take a walk on the wild side with you?”
“You might like it, Sam.” Hunter smiled and Samantha felt it right in the center of her stomach.
“Maybe. But I also happen to like my life as it is. My routine helps me stay focused. Keeps my life together.”
Hunter stared back at her in challenge and Sam made note of the fact that Hunter’s eyes were probably her most expressive feature. Big and the softest brown imaginable. She also had the most elegant neck, slender and smooth, leading down her body to curves that could not be ignored. As tough as Hunter seemed, as cool and charming as she often was, there was something innately soft and feminine about her that Samantha loved. Hunter came with a lot of layers.
“Is that a no to the laundry challenge?”
Oh.
Right.
There had been a conversation in progress.
“Fine. I’ll swap up my laundry day, but what do I get in return?”
Hunter stared back at her knowingly, a small smile playing on her lips. And just like that, Samantha felt the color enter her cheeks at the unspoken insinuation. Her world skidded wildly off center once again. Damn it.
“We should probably talk about last night,” Hunter said. The teasing smile faded from her lips, the deal temporarily forgotten in favor of the larger issue.
“Okay.” That was about all Samantha could manage. The room now felt small and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself, with her hands, so she began to straighten up, clearing things from the table and setting them across the island to wash.
“It was bad of me. Kissing you like that.”
Sam stopped what she was doing and turned to listen.
“I was half-asleep and…well, I hope that you’ll accept my apology.”
It wasn’t exactly an explanation, and as much as Sam wanted to move forward from this, she needed one. “What made you do it?”
Sam watched Hunter take a deep breath before meeting her eyes with reluctance. “Because in that moment, I couldn’t imagine not doing it. You were so beautiful standing there, the moonlight playing in your hair. Stunning. So I…acted.”
Samantha’s lips formed a tiny “oh,” but no sound escaped them. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her stunning. It hadn’t been what she’d expected to hear and that stripped her momentarily of her trajectory.
Hunter continued. “I didn’t tell you that to make you uncomfortable. But you did ask.”
“No, I did. I just…” Finally, Sam found her footing and said what her mind was thinking. “Really? You thought that about me?”
Hunter nodded, knowing full well it was a bold move, the honesty, but when asked the question, she couldn’t quite bring herself to sidestep the truth. Because it wasn’t some girl from a bar asking, it was Samantha. Samantha, who knew her better than most people on the planet. As Sam stared at her, Hunter felt a prickle of heat in her cheeks.
Sam glanced at the wall in mystification before shaking her head and meeting Hunter’s gaze. “I thought you’d maybe been sleepwalking.”
“I was awake.” And then because they were being so honest, Hunter took it one step further. “What made you kiss me back?”
At the question, Sam resembled a terrified puppy. Just as Hunter opened her mouth to let her off the hook, she got her answer.
“Well, you happen to be a really good kisser.”
Hunter laughed. She hadn’t seen that one coming. “Yeah, well, right back at you.”
Samantha walked around the island toward Hunter. “It can’t happen again. You know that, right? It would ruin everything that’s important.”
Hunter placed her hand over her heart. “I do, and it won’t. It was a moment in time. Our moment.” And then she grinned. “We’ll always have the kitchen, Sam.”
Samantha tossed a dish towel at her playfully and then covered her eyes with one hand. “I cannot believe you just said that to me.”
“I’ll never look at white grape juice the same way again.”
Sam gasped. “You have to stop or I will be forced to kill you. This is embarrassing enough.” But she was laughing and that was good.
“You can’t kill me. You adore me.”
Samantha stopped her advancement, her expression now sincere. “Now that part is true. You know that right?”
“I do.” A pause. “Leave the dishes for me. You made our dinner. I’ll clean up.”
“Roommate points. You sure?”
“Yep.” Hunter glanced at the sink. “I’m an amazing dishwasher. Prepare to be impressed.”
“I can hardly wait. While you do that, I’m off to Queens.”
Hunter smiled at Sam’s once-a-week volunteer gig at the retirement community. “Say hi to Mr. Earnhardt for me. And see if you can snag his lasagna recipe.”
“He swears he’s taking it to his grave, but I’ll see if I can’t sweet-talk him.”
“I have faith in you.”
Hunter put on the Eagles and went to work scrubbing the pots and plates they’d used for dinner. She was pleased with the kiss debriefing and felt they’d both handled the delicate situation quite well. They’d even laughed about it, which was just absolute bonus.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she automatically assumed it was April. They had plans to get together at nine just after April’s final class. She’d thought about canceling, but the distraction was much needed. But instead of April’s face smiling up at her from the screen, she saw her mother’s instead.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Hello, angel girl. Are you eating?”
“Right now? No. We just finished dinner. Why?”
“No, in general. You look too thin on the Facebook thing. It concerns me.”
Hunter smiled. Her mother was new to social media but was definitely making up for lost time. “I haven’t lost any weight, Mama. I promise. What photo are you looking at?”
“I don’t know. You were tagged by a girl named Stacey who has her arms
around your waist. I hit ‘like,’ but I didn’t really like it at all.”
“She’s just a girl from a club I was at, Mama. I don’t really know her that well.”
“She wants to know you, that’s for sure. If you don’t know her, don’t let her up against you like that, nani kaikamahine. Everyone on the Faceplace is going to think she’s your girlfriend. My mah-jongg group will see and think there’s a wedding.”
Hunter smiled. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She knew when to pick her battles. Her mother was the sweetest person on planet Earth, but she came with a rock-solid set of morals and values that she expected her children to adhere to as well. And while Hunter did her best, she sometimes felt there was an unavoidable generation gap. Plus, her mother had never lived in New York City.
“I’m calling about your father’s birthday this weekend. It’s going to be more of a celebration than I originally thought. We’re having a party for him at the NCO club on base. All of our friends are coming.”
“Oh yeah?” She didn’t see why this had to involve her just because the location had changed.
“It would mean a lot to the family if you came. There will be pictures, and every time I look at them, my middle baby will be missing.”
Hunter dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. Not this again. If she knew him, her father would actually prefer it if she didn’t show up. It would be the best birthday present she could possibly give him. Why put herself through that and spend a weekend angry and resentful all over again? “He doesn’t need me or want me there, Mama. We both know this. If anything, it would just cause problems. He’ll make some sort of passive-aggressive comment. I’ll take offense and fire back. Nothing good ever comes from us being in the same room. You’d have photos of angry people.”
“That’s not true. I still hold out hope that you and your father will see eye to eye someday. Underneath it all, he’s a good man. He just has trouble communicating sometimes.”
And accepting his children as they are, Hunter wanted to supply. But her mother was caught in the middle, and that couldn’t be an easy place to reside. She should cut her some slack. “I don’t think it’s going to work out this time. Plus, last-minute flights are hard to snag. I’ll come on a different weekend. How about next week?” She knew her mother was craving a visit, and if she dangled an impending trip in front of her, it might get her off the hook.
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