His eyebrows knit together, but then they recover. “Are you asking me out?”
“No. I’m collecting a debt.” I twist my lips to the side, tightening the reins on my grin.
Andrew doesn’t bother with the same restraint. A smug smirk practically consumes his stupidly handsome face. “I never leave debts unpaid. Should I prepay Barry now, or do you like to collect your debts in person?”
“Always in person. Don’t want to be stiffed.”
“It’s not so bad being stiff.”
If I had pearls to clutch, I’d do it just for effect. “Oh my, Andrew. Did you just insert a sexual joke into our innocent conversation?”
“Were we not flirting?”
“I have a feeling you never misread a situation.”
He shrugs. The lax gesture doesn’t suit him as well as that designer one does. “I should probably get going.”
“You’re always going.”
“Yeah, duty calls. I should have been there hours ago.”
“What kept you?” Shaking my head, I look down briefly. “Sorry. I tend to ask too many questions.”
“That’s okay. I have one for you. What time do you want your coffee?”
He might be flirting with me this time, but I’m not going to embarrass him by calling him out. “I’m fairly open. What works best for you?”
“Seven thirty. Is that too early?”
“It’s not.” I start to walk away. “See you tomorrow, Andrew.”
He stands still, looking smug as ever, but then his lips part, and he reaches out. “Hey, I didn’t get your name. I want the one you like to be called.”
My cheeks heat. Twice in one day. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this giddy. It’s been longer—going on two years next month—since I’ve even dated. “Juni. I like to be called Juni.”
“See you tomorrow, Juni.”
3
Andrew
Knock. Knock.
I drag my tired eyes from the monitor, my gaze traveling across the large office when my door opens without permission. “I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“You never do,” Nick replies, my brother’s tone light. He’s been like this since he got married two years ago—smiling all the time, whistling for no reason, no tension found in his body. Basically, he’s not like he used to be at all and definitely no longer like me. “Why are you here so late?”
“Because Mom sent me on a mission, and I foolishly played along.”
He chuckles and sits across the desk from me. He’s wise enough not to kick his feet up on my desk. “Oh, yeah? What’s she up to?”
I could cite the three reports I still need to go through tonight, but what’s a few minutes with my brother? I push the keyboard away and lean back in the cushy chair. “That remains to be seen. Right now, she claims it’s having me settle into a new city, but I have a feeling there’s more to it. She didn’t give me a crazy list of things to do in Seattle.”
“Wonder why the sudden focus on your life in New York?”
“I have a hunch—”
“You don’t work off hunches.”
“Typically, but that’s all I have to go off of this time. Ever since you found your one and only, her focus has shifted to me.”
Chuckling, he sits forward. “I’ll be honest, I thought her New Age beliefs were nonsense, that she was traveling down a dead-end street when it came to me. Now I’m a believer.”
“What changed your mind?”
He raises his left hand, and the light from my desk lamp gleams off the metal wrapped around his finger. “I met Natalie.”
“I thought you met her on a drunken weekend in Catalina?”
“That too.”
“I don’t understand.”
He snaps his fingers. “Keep up, brother. She’s not helping you settle into life on the East Coast.”
Rubbing my right temple, I scowl, regretting that I allowed him to come in. “Now I’m completely lost.”
“For the smartest guy I know, you sure are dense sometimes.” He stands and rests his hands on my desk. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he says conspiratorially. “Mom’s matchmaking.”
“No . . .” I tick through the list again—park, perform, Shakespeare, exorcism, and the one that shall not be vocalized or even given a second thought. Arguably, all of them have nothing to do with anyone else other than the fifth and final. “She’s being subtle if that’s her motive.” And how on earth can she do that from California?
“Only time will tell. In the meantime, the last thing I want to do is make her feel like a failure.”
“I know there was no big production in you and Dalen calling things off—”
“Can we not do this?”
He studies me. “You weren’t in love with Dalen.”
“No, but she’s a good friend.”
“Hence, my point. The spark wasn’t there. As Natalie would say, she wasn’t your person. So, if Mom’s really trying to fix the unfixable, let her. Maybe you’ll both come out winners.”
Bored by my love life being the topic of conversation, I return my attention to the doc displayed on my monitor. “I need to get back to work.”
“Look, I get it, Andrew. You put your life on hold for years, worked your ass off, and have been rewarded. You’re married to your job. But one day, you’re going to wake up and wonder if an actual life was worth the sacrifice.”
“Until regret sets in, I have three reports to finish before morning, and you have a wife waiting for you to return home to, so if you’ll excuse me . . .” I don’t need to look up to know he’s staring at me, most likely disappointed. I can feel it. But the silence stings, so I give in, not something I often do. “What?”
What I expected isn’t written in his expression. Though I don’t understand the sympathy I do find. He finally says, “Natalie is waiting on me. We have reservations at eight thirty at this great restaurant in Tribeca. It’s been there forever, long past being trendy. If you ever need a place to take a date, Asado is the place. Try the empanadas.”
My stomach growls, reminding me that I forgot to eat lunch. Mostly because I was distracted by Juni and those hazel eyes of hers, the delicate curve of her neck where it meets her shoulders, and those lips—bare and licked with care as we stood on the sidewalk.
What the hell am I thinking?
She was a hurdle in my day, at best. At worst, I was shit on. So yeah, the fond thoughts of the two encounters twist into annoyances. A debt . . . I scoff.
A loud clap snaps my mind into the present, and Nick asks, “You want to share whatever’s on your mind because I have a feeling it’s not the accounts you’re working on?”
“No.”
“Figured, but since you didn’t hear me the first time, I thought I’d repeat myself. Natalie and I are hosting a dinner party on the twenty-fourth. I’m giving you three weeks’ notice, so save the date. You’re not getting out of it. No working that Saturday night or saying you’re too tired. I’m RSVP’ing for you now.”