In more ways than one. Whitney had closed the bar tonight in order to come to the game, which meant she was losing money by being here to support Dakota in her time of need. To show her appreciation, Dakota had offered to pay the vendor fee for Whitney to take part in Smorgasburg, but Whitney said she’d take care of the expense herself. In her eyes, the chance to spend some quality time with Joey without having to worry about tending to customers more than made up for the lost revenue.
“Are you coming, Grace?” Joey asked.
Grace looked at Dakota and frowned as if she didn’t like what she saw. “Go ahead. I think I’ll stay here for a while.”
“Cool. We’ll see you in a bit.”
“Are you okay?” Grace asked after Joey and Whitney left.
“No, I feel like I’m about to throw up.” Dakota bent and put her hands on her knees. “Why did I agree to do this?”
“Because you knew you could handle it.” Grace rubbed Dakota’s back. The gentle, smooth strokes made Dakota feel less nauseous, but her nerves were still getting the best of her. “Come here.” Grace tugged on her shoulders and forced her to stand. “Look at me.”
Dakota’s head swam when Grace cradled her face in her hands. Then she looked into Grace’s warm brown eyes and the rest of the world fell away. Making a fool of herself in front of tens of thousands of people seemed inconsequential. The only things that mattered were the feel of Grace’s hands on her skin, the reassuring sound of Grace’s voice, and the tender expression on her face.
“Go out there and pretend no one’s watching,” Grace said. “It’s just you and the catcher. You’re in your backyard tossing the ball back and forth. There’s no one in the stands. There’s no one in the dugout. There’s no one in the bullpen. There’s no one in the press box. It’s just you.”
The butterflies in Dakota’s stomach stilled, but her heart took flight.
“Better?” Grace asked.
Dakota nodded because she couldn’t trust herself to speak. She didn’t want to say something stupid and ruin the moment. She simply wanted to savor it for as long as it lasted. Forever was a pretty nice place to start.
“Good.” Grace seemed so into her role Dakota half expected her to conclude her pep talk by smacking her on the ass and shouting, “Play ball!” Instead, she held out her hand for a fist bump. “Go get ’em.”
“You got it, coach.”
* * *
Grace felt nervous as she settled into her seat. The task Dakota had been asked to perform was purely ceremonial, but she was taking it as seriously as if she had been picked to be the starting pitcher in the seventh game of the World Series. Grace liked that about her. She liked when people owned up to their responsibilities rather than shirking them. But her yearning to see Dakota do well wasn’t what had her feeling anxious. It was her yearning for Dakota.
When she had taken Dakota’s face into her hands a few minutes ago and Dakota had looked deep into her eyes, Grace had felt a connection unlike any she had experienced before. She couldn’t remember half the things she had said to Dakota as she tried to talk her through her sudden bout of nerves, but she vividly remembered all the things she had felt. All the things she was still feeling. Fondness. Curiosity. Fascination. And above all, desire.
She was pretty certain Dakota felt the same way about her. Now, like it or not, they were locked in a dance where Dakota seemed perfectly willing to take the lead if only Grace would accept the invitation. Thanks to the influx of new business, Grace could handle losing Dakota as a client. But was she willing to accept her as a lover?
Joey raised her hand to draw the attention of a roaming vendor. “Would you like something, Grace?” she asked after she ordered two cups of beer and a large bag of popcorn.
“I’ll wait until the game starts, thanks.”
“It’s a good idea to pace yourself. Whenever I go to a game, I always end up ordering one of everything.”
“Then she spends the rest of the night complaining about how much her stomach hurts,” Whitney said.
“Careful, honey,” Joey said. “We’re supposed to be trying to make a good impression. If you keep saying things like that, Grace will think I have impulse control issues.”
“That’s because you do.”
Grace laughed at Joey and Whitney’s teasing banter. They seemed to be polar opposites. Joey was short and Whitney was tall. Joey was dark and Whitney was fair. Joey’s look veered toward the butch end of the spectrum while Whitney’s was undeniably femme. Despite their differences, they had one very important thing in common. Every look, every touch, and every word that passed between them demonstrated how much they loved each other.
“How long have you been together?” Grace asked.
“Five years,” Joey said.
“How did you meet?”
Whitney smiled as she rubbed Joey’s jeans-covered thigh. “Do you want to tell her, or shall I?”
“You tell the story a lot better than I do,” Joey said, giving Whitney a kiss on the cheek. “Go for it.”
“Dakota’s roommate Rich is one of the featured performers at Mainline,” Whitney said. “I don’t think you’ve met him yet, but you will if you stick around long enough. Anyway, Joey and I ran into each other at Mainline one night. Purely coincidence. We were both out with friends and happened to end up at the same place at the same time. We noticed each other immediately and flirted from afar for a while, but neither of us made a move right away. After about an hour of smiling and making eye contact, Joey came over and asked me to dance. Even though the dance floor was empty, I said yes because I thought she was cute—duh—and because my favorite song was playing. It turned out there was a very good reason no one was dancing. The two of us had been paying so much attention to each other we had missed the announcer introducing the next performer.”
Joey laughed, apparently anticipating the punch line.
“Rich, who was doing his Lady Gaga impersonation that night, signaled for the DJ to cut the music. Then he grabbed a microphone and said—I do a really bad Southern accent, but I’m going to try anyway. He said, ‘I’ve been known to share many things, but a stage ain’t one of them, so get off of mine and find your own.’ Joey and I slunk away with our tails tucked between our legs.”
“We’ve been together ever since.” Joey wove her fingers through Whitney’s.
“How do you manage to work together without having it affect your relationship?”
“If we worked together all day, it might be a problem, but our schedules overlap only a few hours a night,” Whitney said. “I get to have me-time when she’s running the shop, and she gets downtime when I’m behind the bar.”
“That way, we don’t get too sick of each other.”
Whitney playfully smacked Joey on the arm. “Speak for yourself.”
Grace looked back and forth between them. “You guys are a lot of fun. I can see why Dakota likes you.”
Joey grabbed a fistful of popcorn. “I could say the same about you.”
“Me? Fun? My sisters might beg to differ. They’re always saying I’m too serious.”
“Ignore them,” Whitney said. “I can see why Dakota thinks so highly of you.”
“Yeah,” Joey added, “you’re a classy lady.”
Grace couldn’t think of a higher compliment. Her mother had raised her and her sisters to comport themselves with class. She was glad to hear the lessons had paid off.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Citi Field,” the public address announcer said. “Tonight’s game features the Atlanta Braves and the New York Mets.” The large crowd cheered at the mention of the home team. “Please direct your attention to the infield.”
Heeding the public address announcer’s suggestion, Grace turned to see Dakota approaching the mound with a baseball in her hand and three photographers at her heels.
“Please give a warm welcome to Dakota Lane,” the PA announcer continued, “here to throw out the first pitch.”
Da
kota doffed her cap and saluted the crowd. Though the cheers she received weren’t as deafening as they were bound to be for the players once the game was under way, they were loud enough to give Grace goose bumps. Dakota seemed so down-to-earth it was easy to forget she was on the fast track to becoming a household name.
Dakota toed the rubber after the Mets backup catcher crouched behind home plate. Grace held her breath when Dakota, looking as serious as a closer brought in to protect a slim lead in the bottom of the ninth, settled into her stance. Technically, the pitch didn’t mean anything—it wouldn’t affect the outcome of tonight’s game in any way—yet it meant so much.
Dakota wound up and threw the ball toward home plate. Grace thought she heard a faint grunt of effort as the ball left Dakota’s hand. The pitch landed in the catcher’s mitt with a loud smack. A perfect strike right down the middle.
“Yes!” Grace jumped out of her seat and cheered as if the game was over instead of about to begin.
On the mound, Dakota saluted the crowd again and strode toward the catcher, who was jogging toward her to present her with a souvenir baseball. Dakota held the ball aloft as she met Grace’s eye. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
“You’re welcome,” Grace mouthed back.
Joey reached for her beer. “I’d have to take a look at the speed gun before I offered her a contract, but that was pretty impressive.”
“Yes,” Grace said, watching Dakota give an on-field interview to a reporter from the Mets’ cable network, “she certainly is.”
Chapter Eleven
Dakota’s feet were on the ground, but she felt like she was walking on air. She had forced herself to keep her expectations low so she wouldn’t make the rookie mistake of trying too hard. Tonight wasn’t make-or-break, she had told herself. It wasn’t about pitching her case or trying to bully Grace into putting her concerns aside and fall into bed with her. Tonight, she simply wanted to show Grace a good time and, if she was lucky, lay the appropriate groundwork for a second date. So far, she seemed to be doing just that.
Inviting Joey and Whitney to accompany her and Grace to the game had accomplished exactly what she had hoped it would: it had helped to break the ice. Grace was relaxed, smiling, and receptive. She was laughing at all of her jokes—even the bad ones—and she was getting along so well with Joey and Whitney they already seemed like fast friends.
Dakota wasn’t completely surprised by the latter development. Whitney always managed to find some good in everyone she met; Joey was harder to impress. So when Joey caught her eye during the seventh-inning stretch, nodded at Grace, and flashed a surreptitious thumbs-up, Dakota grinned at the unexpected seal of approval.
She sang along with the crowd when the PA system blasted “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” but fell silent when local staple “Lazy Mary” started up. Grace tried to teach her the words, but Dakota couldn’t master the intricate Italian lyrics. She laughed at her increasingly comical attempts.
“Sorry. My Southern tongue doesn’t work that fast.”
“You might want to address that deficiency before you start receiving complaints about your performance,” Grace said with a wink.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ignoring the thought of how much she wanted to show Grace she wasn’t entirely lacking in skills in the bedroom, Dakota pointed to the scoreboard, which showed the Mets leading 11–2. “Do you want to get out of here? Unless the Braves find their missing offense and mount a miraculous comeback over the next two innings, I think the Mets have this game in hand.” She wasn’t ready for the night to end, but she didn’t want to press her luck by suggesting they head somewhere else after they left the stadium.
“Do you want to grab something more substantial than a hot dog?” Grace asked. “Since Whitney’s place is closed tonight, there’s a new Honduran restaurant in Williamsburg I’d love to try.”
“I know the place you’re talking about. La Tigra on Melrose Avenue.”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“I’m up for it.” Dakota turned to Joey and Whitney. “What about you guys?”
Joey and Whitney exchanged a look. “You two have fun,” Joey said after they came to a silent decision.
“You’re going to love it,” Whitney added. “If you like tripe, make sure to try the mondongo soup. It’s ah-may-zing.”
Joey made a face. “Do yourself a favor and stick with the catrachitas. Deep-fried tortilla strips, mashed refried beans, melted cheese, and tons of hot sauce. My four favorite foods on one plate.”
“They both sound so good I don’t think I could go wrong with either choice.” Grace tossed her purse strap over her shoulder as they headed for the nearest exit. “I appreciate the recommendations, but you’re coming with us, aren’t you?”
Joey shook her head. “We’ll ride the train to Williamsburg with you, but we’ll let you take it from there.”
“Bailing so soon?” Dakota asked after they reached the top of the stairs. “It’s not even ten o’clock yet.”
“Running two businesses simultaneously means we don’t get to have date night often.” Joey wrapped her arm around Whitney’s waist as they walked toward the subway station that provided direct service to the stadium. “We’re going to take full advantage of the opportunity, if you catch my drift.”
“I know how stressful running a business can be,” Grace said while they waited for their train to arrive. Extra trains were available after the games to service the departing crowds, but the additional cars hadn’t started running yet. “I don’t blame you for taking some time for yourselves. I need to start doing more of that.”
Despite Grace’s assertion that she wanted to spend more time out of the office, Dakota half expected her to change her mind about dinner once Joey and Whitney begged off. When they arrived in Williamsburg, they parted ways with Joey and Whitney with kisses and good-bye hugs outside the subway exit. Joey and Whitney headed for the sex toy shop they planned to visit, and Grace started walking in the opposite direction.
“The restaurant’s this way,” she said, beckoning for Dakota to follow her. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m starved.”
And the more time she spent with Grace Henderson, the hungrier she became.
* * *
By the time Grace and Dakota arrived at La Tigra, the dinner rush was over and the kitchen had run out of half the items on the menu. The restaurant was so small it seated a maximum of thirty people, and the chef, who was also the owner, crafted his meals on two portable burners in a small area behind the checkout counter instead of on a commercial stove in a well-appointed kitchen.
Grace loved the place’s quaint, cozy charm. Oversized black-and-white photographs of Honduras hung on the walls, and punta music played on a boom box strategically placed on a small wooden shelf above the bathroom door. If the food was as good as the ambience, she would definitely be coming back for more. Since their options were limited, she and Dakota decided to split the catrachitas. Paired with a bottle of palm sap wine, she figured the generous appetizer would be enough to tide them over for the rest of the night.
“Have you had coyol before?” Dakota asked after the waitress took their order.
“No, but I’m not much of a beer drinker and it was the only thing on the wine list I haven’t had before. Why do you ask?”
“It might not be what you’re expecting. Coyol isn’t like traditional wine. It looks like coconut milk, it’s not as alcoholic as regular wine, and depending on how long it was allowed to ferment, it can be sweet or sour. There’s also an added bonus. When you drink too much of it, it isn’t the alcohol that makes you drunk. It’s the enzymes. Exposure to the sun exacerbates the process.”
“Meaning?”
“Simply put, if we get blasted tonight and sober up by tomorrow morning, we can get wasted all over again just by walking through a sunbeam.”
“Nice try, but I call BS on that one.”
Dakota held up three fingers. “Scout’s
honor. If you like, we could put the theory to the test by polishing off a bottle tonight and going for a walk in Central Park tomorrow.”
“It’s a deal. I’ll meet you at Bow Bridge at noon.”
“Cool.”
Grace realized what had happened a beat too late. As if allowing Dakota to cleverly corral her into accepting a second date wasn’t bad enough, suggesting they meet at one of the most romantic places in New York City was even worse. Bow Bridge had been the site of countless proposals over the years. Filmmakers and tourists alike loved focusing their cameras on its graceful lines as it stretched sixty feet over the tranquil waters of Central Park Lake. Using it as a rendezvous point was only asking for trouble. The kind of trouble she couldn’t afford but was finding harder and harder to resist.
“When I agreed to go out with you tonight, I knew I’d be signing up for an adventure,” she said. “Tonight has proven to be exactly that.”
“A good one, I hope.”
Grace was hesitant to comment on how incredibly well the evening was going because she didn’t want to risk ruining it. Especially when another outing had been added to the schedule. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“One bottle of coyol,” the waitress said, placing a chilled carafe filled with a cloudy white liquid on the table. The two small glasses she set next to the carafe looked more like juice glasses than any wine glasses Grace had ever seen. “Enjoy.”
Dakota pulled the rubber stopper from the bottle, half-filled both glasses, then raised the one closer to her in a toast. “To continuing adventures.”
Grace tapped her glass against Dakota’s and took a tentative sip of the wine. Dakota was right. The coyol—sweet, yet earthy—wasn’t what she was expecting. Neither was Dakota. She was more. Much more. Any woman would be lucky to have her. Any woman, that was, except her.
“Did you always want to be a model when you grew up?” she asked.
“No way. Sometimes I don’t want to be a model even now.”
“Then why do you do it?”
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