“The charity that matched Sergeant Jackson with his new owner—that’s who the event will benefit. Maybe you could be a volunteer. It’s everything you like. It’s going to be outside with a picnic and, I don’t know, a dog costume contest or something.”
“Um, is that dogs in costume or people costumed as dogs?” she asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Says the man who’s never had to provide security during a furries convention.”
“On the spectrum of out-of-towner shenanigans, dressing as cartoon animals for a weekend ranks pretty low.”
She arched her brow. “Do you know how much it costs to repair a pool filter clogged with fun fur?”
We’d reached her car. “I’m torn between laughing and wondering how the hell we ended up talking about goddamn furries.”
“Who says you have to choose only one?” she asked with a grin that was cheeky as hell.
And fuck it. She was right. Friendship, dating, work—I didn’t know how long this quiet spell would last, but I had the chance to choose D, all of the above. Maybe I should take it as a gift and just enjoy it.
She unlocked her car and opened the door, holding out her hand for her gym bag. I gave her the strap but didn’t let go yet.
Because I didn’t want her to think of Colorado. I didn’t want her to think of making big changes now. I wanted her to think of . . . well, of an us. I saw a work-around for the four-hours-after-firing rule, and I went for it. “Remember the other morning? At your car? When I said I wanted to ask you something?”
Her eyes widened, and her beautiful mouth opened in surprise. I watched the thoughts cross her face, flashing in tiny tics of emotion, refusing to settle into just one. “Yes,” she finally said. “But you never finished the sentence.”
Her words were soft, spoken in that vulnerable tone that was having its way with me tonight. And she was right. I hadn’t gotten far before caution got the better of me.
Caution could go fuck itself.
Well, in this one area.
This area where I had nothing, and everything, to lose.
“Here’s what I wanted to ask,” I said. “Would you have a drink with me tomorrow night?”
After all the time I’d known her, I’d done it.
Asked her.
And I hoped she’d say yes.
But first, she tilted her head and shot me a quizzical stare.
“Is this because you feel sorry for me?”
“No.” My swift answer left no space for doubt. “It’s because I want to have a drink with you.”
I took back her gym bag and leaned in to toss it onto the passenger seat, brushing up against her as I did, and not by accident. The little catch in her breath promised I wasn’t alone in how I felt.
I straightened with one hand on the door and one on top of the car, letting my eyes travel over her lovely face. “I don’t feel sorry for you, Mindy. You weren’t happy at that job, and now you’ll find a better one.”
She shook her head. “So, the drinks—if they’re not for commiseration, then they’re for . . .?”
Ah, hell.
By now, it had to have been over four hours since she was fired.
“The drinks are for this.” I leaned in and tucked a strand of hair over her ear. Then I dipped my head close to hers and brushed my lips against her cheek.
I stayed like that for a few seconds. Closer to her than I’d ever been. Wanting to be so much closer.
But I needed to be sure she was on the same page I was when it came to turning our friendship into something more.
That I wasn’t taking advantage of her.
I pulled away. “What do you say?”
She licked her lips. “I say yes.”
Stepping back, I waited until she’d buckled up and started the engine before heading to my own vehicle. This was good. This felt right. This was something I’d wanted for ages.
If getting together was a disaster, at least I’d know.
But with the way her eyes had darkened when I’d touched her hair, the way her breath came faster when I kissed her cheek?
This wasn’t going to be a disaster at all.
8
Mindy
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so excited for a date.
Okay, actually, I couldn’t remember my last date, period.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was that John was taking me out for drinks—not for coffee, not for beers at a sports bar—but drinks and everything that implied. Drinks with my gorgeous, smart, sexy friend who was no longer locked in the friend zone.
If I’d had any doubts, John had put the remaining ones to rest with the way he’d said good night, his breath warm on my neck, his mouth skimming my jaw, leaving me wanting more, more, more.
As P!nk blasted in my condo—my Sexy Getting Ready Playlist, I’d dubbed it—I zipped up my jeans, slid on a silky top, and clasped on a slim silver pendant with a dog on it, a gift from my niece. Well, a dog was my Patronus, so it seemed fitting. Maybe it was also a sign that I should get involved with the dog rescue event. I’d worked with plenty of dogs in security.
I played out the possibilities as I swiped on some mascara, touched up my lip gloss, and sung my heart out to “Just Give Me a Reason.”
I should not be this buoyant the day after getting canned.
But I was. Because . . . that man.
As the song faded out, my phone rang, and I jumped. I stared at the cell lit up on the bed, and hoped against hope that it wasn’t John calling to cancel. Hoped no one had gotten murdered. Hoped tonight’s plans weren’t too good to be true.
Only one way to find out.
I swiveled around, marched to my bed, and grabbed the device, daring it to ruin my evening.
But John’s name wasn’t flashing across the screen. It was a number I didn’t recognize, with a New York City area code.
Like most people, I didn’t like answering unknown numbers, but neither the hotel business nor the security industry had nine-to-five hours, so I never ruled out it being something important, no matter the time of day.
“Mindy Gamble here.”
“Hello, Ms. Gamble. This is Rosemary Adler at the Cartwright Hotel in New York.” The woman on the other end of the call had a warm, confident tone. “I know this might seem out of the blue—well, not just seem so, it is—but for some time, we have been looking to fill the position of head of security here at our Manhattan property.”
“Oh?” My heart sped up before I’d fully processed this information. New York had always seemed to me like a city where anything could happen, but on a less tawdry level than Las Vegas. “I hadn’t heard.”
“We’ve been selective with advertising the position, as we really want a certain kind of candidate.” I could sense the smile in the voice on the other end of the call. “Which is why I’m calling. Our CEO has a friend who works at the Jade, and he passed on the fact that you might be searching for new employment.”
I sat on the end of my bed. That was fast. Damned fast. Scary damned fast, in the way that a roller coaster operates at racetrack speeds. The this-is-thrilling-but-what-if-it-goes-horribly-wrong way.