Right Where I Want You

by Jessica Hawkins

  And then there was the money. I could hear Neal in the back of my head . . .

  “Who in their right mind would walk away from double the salary? You’d be stupid not to take it, and you’re not stupid, Georgina. Are you?”

  His condescension was still, at times, too loud to ignore. I had been stupid for all the times I’d second-guessed myself around him, even though this was one of those times.

  If I wasn’t moving forward, though, was I going backward?

  15

  GEORGINA

  Bruno did not respect hangovers. Or late nights chasing Turkish dramas and delights with wine, which was what Luciano and I had done until he’d fallen asleep on my couch around one.

  Schlepping down the block with Bruno’s leash in hand, I thanked the powers that be for oversized sunglasses to block harsh sunlight and for hats to hide unkempt hair. Sebastian’s hat, to be exact. I’d meant to return it to him after the game, I really had, but he hadn’t asked for it, and it smelled so good—like him. And me. Us, if such a thing were to ever exist.

  Bruno perked up and took off, pulling me after him, but this time, it wasn’t a squirrel that’d caught his attention, nor the UPS truck, or even the neighbor’s ugly-cute French bulldog that drove Bruno wild. It was a man tall enough to high-five the changing leaves and sexy enough to stop traffic with tousled dark hair and muscles that stretched his charcoal-colored sweater—and to top it all off, he sported not only a wide, devastating smile but two Dunkin’ Donuts coffees.

  “Finally,” Sebastian called as he headed in my direction. “I’ve been wandering the street for fifteen minutes. You didn’t pick up your phone.”

  No no no. He had to be a mirage.

  I was braless under my sweatshirt.

  With pimple cream on my chin.

  And sleep crusting the corners of my eyes.

  And him? His smooth-shaven jaw looked sharp enough to cut glass, and his easy, confident energy justified his swagger. If he was a mirage, he was a pretty attractive one.

  Bruno wagged his tail as he ran over to Sebastian. Was it too late to pretend I hadn’t seen him? Was I clever enough to convince him I was not, in fact, Georgina but her doppelgänger? Could I escape into a manhole like a comic book villain?

  “I have a mocha latte with your name on it,” Sebastian said when my gaping became uncomfortable. “Literally.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He thrust the drink at me. “It’ll get cold.”

  There wasn’t much sadder in this world than cold coffee, so I took the latte, which had either been very hot, or had been kept toasty by Sebastian’s sizeable hand. “Um, thanks,” I said, looking up at him from behind my sunglasses. “But why are you here?”

  “What do you mean? I told you at the office I was coming over to help walk the brute . . .” He paused, glancing over my head. No, at my head. More specifically, at my hat.

  Oh, no.

  I was wearing his baseball cap like a lovesick schoolgirl. By the way his mouth slid into a knowing smirk, he obviously took pleasure in busting me, but at least he had the decency not to mention it.

  “But how do you know where I live?” I asked.

  “Pineapple.” He nodded behind him. “It’s not a very long street, so I took my chances. I told you I was coming, remember? For muscle?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I had no idea you were serious.”

  “I was. I am.” He glanced at my sweatpants. “I assumed you’d sleep in, which is why I came at eleven.”

  “I’ll have you know I was up at six this morning.”

  “To take Bruno out?”

  That, and to see Luciano off to work. “Yes, but—”

  “Did you go back to sleep afterward?”

  I scowled. Since when did he know my address, habits, and the exact time to catch me at my worst? “You live thirty minutes from here. You’re a bridge and a subway stop change away. We’re not even in the same borough. There’s no way you came all the way here to walk Bruno.”

  He squinted down the block. Sunglasses stretched the neckline of his sweater. I sipped my mocha. It was just the right temperature, damn him—not scalding, not lukewarm. Some people, like Sebastian, led that easy life. I could only imagine I’d surprise someone with coffee the same day they’d sworn off caffeine.

  Bruno finished peeing on his usual fenced tree, then started toward the next block, where he’d sniff and mark his other spots.

  As we walked, Sebastian cupped his coffee with both hands. “Actually . . . I’ve got a favor to ask.”

  “The mocha latte tipped me off.” I sighed. “Go ahead.”

  “I want to run a story idea by you.” He paused. “I mean, I guess I have to run it by you.”

  That made me think of brainstorming sessions, which turned into the memory of Vance’s offer. Luciano and I had spent half the night weighing the pros and cons. The offer was tempting, but the job itself wasn’t something I would’ve sought out. Not to mention it belonged to Sebastian. When I’d brought that up, Lu had reminded me of how putting Neal’s dreams before mine had resulted in a broken heart, a pile of debt, and a serious confidence problem. The creative director position could be a chance to mend at least two of those issues. If my breakup with Neal had taught me anything, it was that I had to put myself first.

  I tuned out my unsettling thoughts. “Okay,” I prompted. “What’s the idea?”

  “Since the common interest date worked out so well for you—”

  I did not appreciate his sarcasm. For all he knew, François and I were getting serious.

  “—let’s try it with a spin. I want to demonstrate how a guy can use a hobby to get the attention of a girl who wants nothing to do with him.”

  I twisted my lips. I couldn’t really knock the common interest thing after the way I’d sung its praises. And it wasn’t a bad idea. Industries had been built on the underdog trying to win over his dream girl.

  “Who’s the subject?” I asked.

  “Me.”

  I tried not to laugh. “Is rejection a problem for you?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Give me one example of a woman who didn’t surrender to your charms.”

  “Well, gee. There’s . . .” He raised his eyebrows. “You.”

  I pulled back. “Me?”

  “You told me yourself—you’ve never seen me flirt successfully.”

  Well, sure, I thought, that’s called a white lie.

  “The article has to be convincing, and who better to give me hell than you? I just have to do my best to win you over. All for the article, of course.”

  “For the article,” I repeated. I could see where he was coming from. And it would make for an interesting piece. But playing Sebastian’s date for a night sounded as dangerous as it did fun. He thought I was immune to his charm? Hardly. I was just good at pretending to be. “Is there anyone else you could experiment on?”

  “Not unless you can find me a dog lover who can’t stand me in the next hour.”

  “You want to do this now?” I asked.

  The corner of his mouth quirked. “Did I leave that part out?”

  “Do we actually have to go out?” I asked. “Or can you walk me through how it would go?”

  “Depends. Are we publishing fiction now?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, but I’m supposed to give up my Sunday for a fake date?”

  “You’re looking at it wrong. I’m giving you full clearance to critique my first-date moves—for the benefit of our entire readership, no less.”

  I did like that idea. I chewed my bottom lip. “First of all, I’m in no state to do anything. I’m wearing sweatpants.”

  “With ‘Royal Pain’ printed across the butt,” he added.

  I scoffed, covering my backside with my free hand. “They were a gift, thank you very much.”

  “Welcome, buns.”

  I ignored him. “Secondly, my dogsitters don’t work Sundays.”

  �
��First,” Sebastian countered, ticking off his defense on his fingers, “I can wait. Bruno and I will hang out while you get ready. Second, Bruno’s coming with us.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Hearing his name, Bruno nudged Sebastian’s leg. Sebastian automatically squatted and scratched his chest. “It’s a dog date. You love dogs, Bruno and I are pals, so I’m using that to make a connection.”

  A dog date? Yes, please. I’d never been on one of those. And I wasn’t going on one—because this wasn’t real. At least, it wouldn’t be for Sebastian, but could I spend the afternoon with him and keep my mask in place? Just because Sebastian and I were learning to get along didn’t mean I was any defter at navigating men outside the office. “What makes you think I don’t have plans today?”

  “Mostly that you told me you didn’t.”

  I wrinkled my nose. I did not remember saying that or giving him my address. I was running out of excuses to skip something I wanted to do, even if I hated to admit it. I looked back toward my apartment. If Luciano found out I’d declined a date, even a pretend one, for a day on my couch with pub food, craft beer, and season two of Can’t Cope, Won’t Cope, he’d never let me live it down.

  “I can wait down here if your apartment’s a pigsty,” Sebastian said.

  I groaned inwardly. Now I had to invite him up to prove it wasn’t. Fortunately, my apartment was presentable if you didn’t count the evidence of my night with Luciano. Even my bedroom was in decent shape, a miracle considering I could be as messy as I wanted. Nobody except Luciano ever went in there . . . ever. Not since Neal. Even my dogsitters steered clear. I sighed at the thought.

  “This is what you asked me to do,” Sebastian pointed out, probably thinking I’d sighed in protest. Bruno’s back leg thumped the sidewalk as Sebastian continued to hit his sweet spot. “It’s about how men can do better, be better, and maybe even have a shot with someone they thought was out of their league.”

  This was one of the best parts of my job—the breakthrough. It seemed despite his resistance, I actually had been getting through to Sebastian these past several weeks. How could I go and cut his progress short? “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Let me worry about that. You’ll have to trust me.”

  Famous last words. “All right,” I conceded. “Mostly because you got to critique my first-date moves, so it’s only fair I see yours.”

  “You aren’t only going to see them,” he said, standing as we turned back for my apartment, “you’re going to get the inside track.”

  An up-close-and-personal look at the inner workings of my arch nemesis and a notorious playboy? I showered and shaved my legs faster than Justin could make a room uncomfortable.

  When I came out of my room, Sebastian was seated on the couch with Bruno’s head in his lap. He didn’t even cozy up to Lu that way. I passed behind them on my way to the kitchen, where I picked up the dog bowl. “I just have to feed Bruno and give him his pills, then we can go.”

  Sebastian lowered the issue of Poised he’d been reading. I’d been collecting stacks of magazines over the past several weeks, anything marketed specifically to both men and women. “Did it and did that, too,” Sebastian said.

  I stuck my head into the living room. “Did what?”

  Sebastian turned his head over the back of the couch. “I figured I’d pitch in since you’re doing me a favor.”

  “You fed Bruno? His pills too? But how’d you know what to do?”

  “I checked the color-coordinated schedule on the fridge and saw that Bruno gets a third meal on Sundays around lunchtime along with his pills.” He shrugged. “Bruno showed me where to find the pill box, and since each day is already divided up and Sunday’s meds were untouched, I put two and two together.”

  “He showed you where his pills were? Who’s anthropomorphizing now?” I teased, although my heart doubled in size at the way Sebastian looked after Bruno. Even if it was part of his act, it didn’t matter as long as Bruno was happy—and he clearly was, as he completely ignored me to sit with Sebastian. “How’d you get him to take his pills?”

  “That’s our secret.” Sebastian tossed the Poised aside and stood as Bruno jumped off the couch. He turned and paused, blinking at my outfit.

  “Is this okay?” I asked, my bangles jingling as I smoothed out the flowy floral dress and straightened my denim jacket. “I have a scarf in my bag. Since you won’t tell me where we’re going—”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t miss the way Sebastian’s eyes scanned my bare legs down to my suede booties, and I didn’t mind it, either. “It’s just . . . I’ve never seen you in a dress like that. One that wasn’t, you know, for work.”

  “This is what I’d wear on a first date.”

  “It’s not what you wore to the game,” he pointed out.

  “That was a different kind of first date.” I took Bruno’s leash from a hook in the entryway. I didn’t even have to say the word walk, and he was already loping around the apartment. I got a tote bag from the hall closet, cursing as I reached into the side pocket.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I pulled out my hand to show him my gooey fingers. “My gummy bears melted.”

  “Do you carry them everywhere?”

  “I told you, they help me think.”

  He sighed, waiting as I packed Bruno’s emergency items, then said, “There’s one thing I should’ve warned you about before you agreed to this.”

  “Okay,” I hedged and whistled for Bruno.

  “I have many irresistible qualities,” Sebastian said, “and lots of charm, and I can’t just shut that off.”

  I rolled my eyes as I hooked Bruno’s leash to his collar and whispered, “Here’s hoping his best quality is that he knows when to stop talking.” To Sebastian, I asked, “Your point?”

  “Try not to actually fall for me today.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said wryly.

  What Sebastian didn’t seem to realize was that I was already doing my best—and had been for a while.

  16

  GEORGINA

  Sebastian had sent me for a second round of coffee so he could “pick something up.” With my bag of Bruno essentials over one shoulder, I carried two cups and walked Bruno to the corner where Sebastian had told me to meet him.

  Possibly due to nerves from being on a pretend date with someone who considered me his enemy, I was already halfway through my mocha latte when Sebastian rounded the corner.

  With a dog.

  A brown, white, black spotted—and utterly adorable—dog. “Georgina, Bruno,” Sebastian called, “meet Opal.”

  Bruno’s and Opal’s tails wagged furiously as they sniffed each other head to butt. “Sebastian . . .” Like any time I encountered that level of canine cuteness, I crouched for kisses. “She’s precious, but please tell me you didn’t adopt a dog to impress a date.”

  “I volunteered to take her for the day,” he said as I handed him his coffee cup so I could pet her. “Irresistible quality number one—I’m charitable with my time. Two—I’m creative. I’ll bet you’ve never been on a date with a mutt.”

  I glanced up at him. “And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t enjoyed the first hour of it.”

  “You’re sharp today, Keller,” he said with a lingering look. “We can mark that in your ‘irresistible quality’ column.”

  I focused on fixing Opal’s twisted collar to keep from blushing. “Where’d you get her?”

  “A shelter nearby. She’s a two-year-old beagle-foxhound mix.”

  “I feel the need to ask this,” I said, reading her dog tag, “they do know you have her, right?”

  “You’re accusing me of stealing her?”

  “You weren’t gone very long.”

  “I have a friend on the inside, and she helped me arrange it beforehand.” He grinned. “Irresistible quality number three—I’m prepared.”

  Opal licked my cheek, which was good because I was giving into the flush that’d been wo
rking its way up my neck. “By the fact that this friend is still speaking to you, I assume she’s not an old fling.”

  “Actually, she is—not all my exes hate me, believe it or not. We can call any of them up now and ask if you like.”

  “You must be superhuman to keep them all straight.” When he didn’t jab back, I wondered if I’d gone too far. But he’d made the bed that was his reputation. Why shouldn’t he have to lie in it?

  I stood and rubbed slobber off my dress. A dog date was fun in theory, but I wondered if I should’ve worn something more appropriate for handling two dogs. Like a garbage bag. “You know dogs can’t go on the subway unless they fit in a carrier, right?” I asked.

  “Of course. Everyone knows that.”

  Flanked by Bruno and Opal, we walked. Brooklyn Heights had tree-lined streets, alternating busy avenues and sleepy cafes, and a promenade that overlooked the East River. There was plenty to do, but it wasn’t really a date destination. “Then where are we going if we’re not taking a car or the subway?” I asked.

  “I already told you, it’s a surprise.”

  “Some women love to be surprised, others hate it, but we all want to be dressed appropriately.”

  He glanced at the spot where my dress brushed above my knees. “So I should’ve mentioned that we’ll be rock climbing?”

  “Yes, because then I would’ve worn underwear.”

  Sebastian’s expression remained passive, but he almost ran into a chalkboard sign advertising cannabis lattes. I also schooled my face against surprise at my own bravado.

  “That was a bold joke,” he said.

  “What makes you think it’s a joke?”

  He narrowed his eyes on me. “Is it?”