by Rin Daniels
She had a date.
A stupid, totally bad idea of a date.
“Oh, to hell with this,” she muttered, and pulled Nadine’s contact card up on her phone. Maybe her friend would be too busy.
Maybe Kat could call Adam and beg off on account of suddenly regaining her common sense.
The line picked up. “Hey, cupcake, what’s up?” Crystal clear, sunny. No sign of activity in the background.
“Are you busy?” Kat said, gently but routinely thumping her forehead against the closet door. Say yes.
“Not even a little. Just hanging in my back yard.” Nadine’s backyard looked more like an oasis, with a curved pool, two different hot tubs, and a cabana.
Minus the cabana boy. Nadine’s family home wasn’t into tacky. Kat felt like an outsider every time she visited. “With a margarita,” her friend added impishly. “About the size of my head.”
“Is it five yet?” Kat asked, momentarily lulled into a wash of amusement.
“Somewhere,” Nadine replied cheerfully. “What’s up?”
“Okay.” Kat straightened, glaring into her closet again. It was a small space already, but her clothes made it look tighter than it was. “Hypothetically speaking, say I have a date.”
“Ohmigod,” Nadine cut in, all of her lazy warmth narrowed in like a laser beam. “With who?”
So much for hypotheticals.
Kat hedged. She didn’t want to outright say, not yet. What if it went horribly?
What if it didn’t?
What if anything Kat did ruined something for Nadine? This wasn’t her circle. She didn’t have to live in it.
“A guy I met,” she said slowly, knowing it wasn’t much.
Nadine’s squeal pierced the line. “No way! When did you meet? How? Is he fine?”
Kat pictured Adam’s wicked smile.
Her belly fluttered. Nerves, definitely.
Then again, the memory of what that mouth had done to her lingered way too closely for her peace of mind.
“Totally fine,” she admitted. “Way gorgeous. Probably too good for me.”
“Knock that off, Kat Harris. You’re just nervous.”
And then some. “So,” she said, deviating away from any topic of who and what and—oh, man. Anything at all but clothes. “I need to wear something. What do I wear?”
Nadine’s voice barely contained its inherent glee. “Where is he taking you?”
“I,” she stressed, “am taking him to MacKinnon’s.”
Nadine let the semantics slide. Kat just rolled her eyes at her friend’s thoughtful hum. “Okay, so, that’s the place by your shop, right?”
“Yeah, the one behind that alley.” It was, Kat had learned, a local haunt, but not a famous one. The kind of place a girl like her stumbled upon, and fell in love with. Hipsters and all.
She couldn’t think of any other place to take him. He’d be used to the expensive places, and she couldn’t afford that.
But the odds of Adam bajillionaire Laramie knowing about MacKinnon’s seemed slim. And she kind of wanted to impress him with low-key.
She could admit that much.
“Got it,” Nadine said abruptly. “Not black.”
So, not that dress again. She’d figured, but Kat shoved it to the side of her closet. “What about pink?”
“Hot?”
“Baby,” Kat said, fingering the airy material of a dress she’d worn once. At a social function her father had infiltrated. A badger game gone all too right, thanks to the fact that most men didn’t look past a pretty blonde in a short dress.
“Ugh, and look like a bridesmaid?”
“Point.” She rifled through her dresses. “I could just wear—”
“If you say ‘jeans’, I swear to God, I’m coming over.”
Kat shut her mouth.
“What about the teal thing you wore last month?” Nadine asked.
Kat found it plastered between two black numbers and pulled the dress out. It was short, like most of her dresses, but she studied the diaphanous hem and cringed. “It’s...”
“Perfect?” The smug note in Nadine’s voice said she’d already made up her mind.
Kat laid the dress on the bed in silence.
“Honey, that dress makes you look like a movie star,” Nadine said firmly. “He won’t know what hit him.”
She suspected Adam had more than a few run-ins with movie stars. Probably wouldn’t be the same.
“Maybe if I pull my bangs back,” she mused.
“Oh, yes. Like the sort of pinned puffy thing.”
Kat sighed. “Okay, I’ll wear it.”
“What about shoes?” Nadine asked, and Kat rolled her shoulders.
“I have shoes,” she promised. “Black strappy things with killer heels.”
Nadine didn’t ask brand. “Good. When’s the date?”
“Seven.”
“Get on it,” her friend yelped, real alarm coloring the line. “Call me if you need any help.”
Kat bit back a laugh as Nadine rushed her off the phone. She appreciated it. The extra time spent taking care of her appearance would help take some of her mind off her nerves.
Or would have, if she didn’t spend too long eyeing the dress like it had turned into a snake on her bed. She put it back twice. Took it out again.
Thought about jeans.
Took a shower, made it through her usual routine of moisturizers and foundation makeup. Added bronzer and desert rose blush for color, and weighed eyeliner versus plain eye shadow.
She compromised with a little bit of both. Something to make her eyes pop.
By the time she’d dried and backcombed her hair, pinning her dark fringe back and curling more wave into the rest, she couldn’t avoid it any longer.
The dress was a dark teal, formfitting from the straight hem at her chest to the waist, where it swung out like turquoise water. Transparent fabric at her shoulders and at the filmy hem glittered with shiny beads in striped lines. The way it contrasted with the red in her hair already made her feel too vampy, so she refrained from red lips.
Your lipstick is making this really hard.
Adam’s voice reverberated low in her body as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.
Okay, so what if he kissed her?
What if she kissed him?
Or something kind of like kissing but way more inappropriate?
Ugh. Why was she even torturing herself about this? There was no way Adam would want to dive right back into that kind of relationship now that he knew who she was. This whole date thing was some sort of weird, backwards apology. He probably wanted closure. She just wanted to apologize.
She already felt like she was dressing up to run an angle.
A knock on the door interrupted her silent, failing pep talk. “Katherine, are you done in there? For heaven’s sake, there are other people in this house.”
She jerked the door open, sidling past her mother’s critical stare. “Sorry, I’m done.”
Barbara’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. She wore red silk pants, today, and bare feet. Her toes were painted gold. “That’s quite a look,” she said shrewdly.
Kat didn’t want to get into it. The last thing she needed was her mother’s well-meaning last-minute advice on, of all things, a date with the same guy she’d tried to scam once already.
Oh, God. She stopped dead in the hallway, the flirty material swinging.
She hadn’t even thought about that.
What would Barbara think about her reintroduction to Adam Laramie?
She could guess.
The door closed behind her mother. “Where are you going?” she called through it.
Kat made a face. “I’m going out with Nadine,” she lied.
“Dressed like that?” Skepticism didn’t care about obstacles like doors. “You look like you’re going fishing.”
“It’s a nice place, Mom. I’m dressing up to fit in.”
“On what side of the bar?”
Kat sighed, ignoring her mom’s casual insensitivity the way she’d learned to ignore everything else. “I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.”
The toilet lid clattered, followed by a flush, and the door slammed open. Barbara frowned at her as she washed her hands. “It’s only six-thirty. The sun hasn’t gone down, so you’re not going out with your friends.” The water shut off. “Katherine, I may be your mother, but I am not stupid.”
“Thanks for that association.”
Her mother wasn’t that easily distracted. She followed Kat to her bedroom, watched as she hunted on her closet floor for the shoes Kat wanted to wear. She crossed her arms over her pale yellow boho tunic. “Are you going on a date?”
Kat waved that away with the same ease Barbara waved away everything else she didn’t want to deal with. “I already said I’m going out with Nadine. We aren’t dating,” she added deadpan.
“You’re a riot,” Barbara replied dryly. “What kind of teenagers go out before the sun goes down?”
Kat unhooked a coral heel from the straps of the black one she found. “We’re not teenagers,” she said. “And we’re going out to dinner, not to dance.”
“What’s your strategy?”
Kat took a second to close her eyes. Then fished the matching shoe from a nest of ballet flats she’d forgotten she owned. “No strategy tonight.”
“Pfft.” The sound was a familiar one in the Harris household. “Don’t be naïve. You’re dealing with money, here, of course you need a strategy. You want everyone to remember you, don’t you?”
And that was half the problem, right there. Everything came down to money and strategy with her mom.
The fact Barbara assumed no one would remember Kat without a game hurt. Explaining that wouldn’t net Kat any resolution.
Kat pulled her shoes on, wrestled the tiny straps into place, and studiously ignored looking at her mother. “Not tonight, Mom.”
Barbara tossed her thick braid over her shoulder, following Kat back down the hall. “What’s your long-term plan, then?” she asked sharply. Kat could practically feel her pale stare locked on the back of her head. It judged. Hard. “What’s the scheme to pay off those loan sharks? Are you going to keep trying to borrow from banks that won’t ever lend to someone like you?”
Her fingers spasmed. She smoothed them out as she tucked lip gloss and her phone into a small black clutch. Her identification, check. Debit card to pay? Check.
“Katherine—”
She snapped the purse shut and said sharply, “I don’t know, Mom, why don’t you tell me how much you can put towards the loan?”
Her mother stepped back. Her light green eyes wavered, a suspiciously watery shine. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s perfectly fair,” Kat said tightly, jamming the clutch under her arm. “Maybe if you didn’t spend money like water, we wouldn’t be in this position.”
Her mother’s face crumpled. “Oh.” She pressed a hand against her chest. “Oh, I see. You’re right, of course.” Barbara’s gaze fell. Looked everywhere but at Kat. “Maybe if I’d told you about the loan right away, you could have fixed it.”
Thereby costing Kat her dream.
Guilt washed over her.
Damn it.
This life was hard for both of them. As much as she wanted to shake her mother by the boat-neck of her silk collar, she couldn’t.
It wasn’t her mom’s fault that her dad had catered to her every whim. Barbara was struggling, too. Making the best decisions she could under the circumstances.
It had taken Kat a very long time to figure out what compassion was for, and exactly why a good hustler didn’t have any. She didn’t want to be a good hustler anymore. Now that she knew what it was to feel for someone, it didn’t seem right to push empathy away. Even if her mother sat on her last nerve.
Kat tucked the clutch beneath her arm. “I will be back tonight,” she said, and put a hand on her mom’s shoulder to brush her cheek with a close air-kiss. “We’ll talk this out later, okay?”
“Okay, but I’m not waiting,” she replied, dabbing at the skin under her eyes with the back of her hand “I’m going to my yoga class before my heart explodes.”
Her mother paid up front for three months, and only attended once every couple of weeks. It was an old fight she didn’t want to have.
Kat gave in as graciously as she could. “Have a relaxing time.”
“You, too, sweetie.” She watched as Kat collected her keys off the hook by the door. They had two cars, but that didn’t say much. Both were old, needed a lot of work. At the very least, it gave her mom a sense of independence.
The papers attached to the front of the door fluttered when Kat opened it. Two, today. That was much better than the five yesterday. One for every hour they’d been at it, she figured.
Reminders of a past due account.
Reminders of their presence.
Kat tore the papers down. What would her neighbors think?
The fact her head pulled that out in her mom’s voice only annoyed her.
“Don’t forget to eat,” she said, setting the notices on the back of the couch. “There’s leftover pasta in the fridge.”
“Again?”
“Mom,” Kat warned, door braced half-open. “Just eat it, okay?”
Barbara sniffed. She didn’t say she would. Didn’t wish Kat any luck. She just turned and vanished back down the hall.
Kat set her jaw. Very gently, resisting the urge to slam it, she closed and locked the door behind her.
The night promised to be another hot one, but a cooling breeze that smelled like the ocean helped take the weight off the humidity she could already feel attach to her skin. Her skirt fluttered.
She flattened a hand over it.
Maybe a drink would help her mood. And her confidence.
And maybe some ice cream, too.
CHAPTER FIVE
MACKINNON’S WAS THE kind of place its patrons found once by accident, and kept coming back. Kat loved the ambience, the murals painted on the walls, the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling in a remarkably close imitation of the summer stars over Sulla Valley.
The music they piped in ran a gamut from vintage to modern, and tonight’s was her favorite—husky-voiced chanteuses crooning smoky lyrics of love gone bad. The atmosphere enfolded her as she stepped inside.
She was fifteen minutes early. Adam was already there.
Like a gentleman, he pulled out her chair for her. “You look incredible.”
“You should have seen me holding the skirt down in the wind,” Kat replied dryly.
His eyes dipped to her glittery neckline. “Maybe I’ll get the chance.”
Confident, wasn’t he? “How was your meeting?” she asked. There, a safe enough question.
“Held over until tomorrow,” he replied. “Nothing to worry about.”
Definitely confident. He’d sure dressed the part, anyway. The clientele at MacKinnon’s varied from denim to chic, but it didn’t matter. Whether everyone was draped in furs or trash bags, Adam would stand out.
He’d foregone a tie for the night, but his charcoal slacks and black blazer undid whatever casual vibe he’d been going for. Matched with a blue, black and gray plaid button-down, and it was like he’d walked off the runway for the effortlessly rich.
She couldn’t place the brand, but the tailored lines said money. The shirt said Gap.
That was the difference between old money like Adam Laramie and newer money without the legacy. Men like Adam didn’t have to prove they were wealthy by draping themselves in name brands head to toe. Taste mattered even more than brands.
Her mother would have swaddled herself in Prada or something ridiculous.
Then again, she wasn’t sure anyone else could wear what Adam wore. Drop-dead sexy wasn’t strong enough a description, and yet, Kat was very much aware of the sidelong glances the women around her gave them.
She couldn’t decide what both
ered her more—that the obvious attention made her feel somehow lacking, or that she wanted to reach over the table and run her fingers through his hair.
She hid her smile behind a sip of her water glass. Lemon, again. Everyone here put lemon in their water.
Adam’s eyes settled on her mouth. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, you know.” Kat set her glass down, opened her menu instead. “I’m pretty sure I’m the envy of every woman in this place.”
“Looking like that?” He whistled softly. “Hell yes, you are.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What did you mean, then?” he asked. He tucked a finger over her menu, tugged it back down to the table.
Her eyes flared when she recognized the heat in his. Powerful as he’d always seemed to her, that look made a claim she wasn’t comfortable acknowledging. It was direct, sexy. Effortlessly aware of her. Of her thoughts.
She wet her suddenly dry lips. “Um. Just that you look really good.”
He accepted that like it didn’t matter. “You make me look better.”
Kat’s nerves eased on a half-laugh. “Stop that,” she scoffed. “You don’t have to roll out the flirt and pony show for me, you know.”
His eyebrows shot up. “That’s—”
“Excuse me,” interrupted a waitress in a white summer dress and brown cowboy boots. She smiled brightly, order pad at the ready. “Do you know what you’d like to order? An appetizer, maybe?”
Adam didn’t wait to see if Kat would speak. She stared at him, mouth parted on a stalled protest, as he ordered for them both.
Ordered exactly the meal she wanted.
How did he know?
When the waitress had gone, taking the menus with her, he shot Kat a simmering eyebrow. “What?”
She sighed. “You just ordered for me.”
“Was I wrong?”
“Not in the choice,” she admitted, and wished she didn’t when the smug gleam in his eye sharpened. “But I can order for myself.”
“But why?”
“Because—” Because it made her feel independent? Because she found it weird to sit quietly at a table while the man spoke for her? She shook her head. “Because I can.”