“Hmm, maybe. He needs an IG account. Put a bow tie on him, maybe some little glasses, throw some books in, and let him hang out in the bookstore window . . .” I let out a frustrated groan. “Never mind. The store is closing.”
“I got your text. So sorry, Emmy. I know how much you wanted to own that place.”
“Just a dream.” I’m barely keeping a roof over my head.
She pats me on the shoulder. “How about a cat joke?”
I groan.
“I just made it up on the spot.”
“Uh-huh.”
She rubs the cat’s back. “You know where you can go to get him a brand-new tail?”
“Where?”
“The retail store. Booyah. I’m so good at this.”
“Somebody, please, save me from Ciara’s jokes,” I call out teasingly.
Mason, the manager, comes out from the kitchen with a towel over his shoulder. Carrying a tray of freshly cut fruit for the drinks, he’s tall, with dark-red hair swept back on top and shaved on the sides. Our friendship goes back to my NYU days.
“Hello, health violation,” he says when he sees the cat.
“Can I leave him in your office?” I say as the kitten scrambles up my arm and perches on my shoulder like a skilled acrobat. His short tail whips as he balances on my shoulder and blinks at Mason with an innocent expression.
Mason grunts. “He looks like he’s about to pounce on me.”
“He adores you,” I say. “He just told me. Telepathically.” I wink at him. “Come on—I brought some litter, and I can find a box in the back for him to go potty. Your office? Please . . .”
“Come on, Mason,” Ciara begs as she bats her lashes at her boyfriend.
He lifts his hands and smirks in defeat. “Like I could ever tell you two no.”
Squealing, I kiss him on the cheek and head to the back.
After getting the kitten settled in the office, I change into my uniform of wide-legged black pants and a white silk shirt. The shirt has ruffles and a long tie that goes around the neck. I let my hair down and brush it until it gleams.
Two hours later, the place has filled up. Mason manages the middle bar, I get one end, and Ciara takes the other. Waitresses in skirts and white shirts with bow ties roam the tables.
I’m mixing a Bellini when a familiar face drops down in an open seat.
“Brody!” I smile. “What’s up? How are things?”
He’s dressed handsomely in a tweed jacket and slacks. Black-framed glasses are on his face. He waves a hand. “Funny you should ask. Fate has been good to me recently.”
“Nice.” I rim a glass in sugar, pour in the shaken mixture, toss in sugared raspberries, slide on a lemon curl, then hand it to the woman next to him.
“Where’s Cas?” He’s usually with his husband.
“He’s on his way.”
“How’s the search for a gym location going?” He’s talked about buying property to expand their business.
“Oh, it’s going, only not in the way I expected.” His eyes sharpen. “How are you?”
“Great. What do you want tonight?”
“I’ll have one of those things you just made. It looked refreshing.” He rakes a hand through his blond hair, and I pause at his diamond-cut jawline, the set of his lips, the bottom one noticeably fuller than the top. Hmm, something about him is familiar— “I’ve got a question: What are your thoughts on marriage?” he asks after I set his drink in front of him.
“Whoa, deep question. I’ve never been close to tying the knot.” Thinking of my parents’ marriage only brings memories of horrible nights wondering if my parents would kill each other.
“Are you a fan of our football teams in New York? My brother plays for the Pythons.”
“Not really.” I saw some of the media coverage, sure, but I had other issues to worry about in February, namely my heart.
Kian was on the roster for the Hawks, but he hasn’t played since we met.
Cas arrives. He has cropped dark hair and is built like a brick house. Even his muscles have muscles. I grab him a draft beer and put a napkin under it.
Brody gazes up at him adoringly, then gives me a look. “Cas and I are considering a trip out west. How was your trip?”
Tingles of unease make the hair on my arm rise as I wipe down the counter. He must mean my trip to Vegas, because no one knows about me going to Arizona but my siblings. “I don’t recall telling you about Vegas.”
“Vegas?” A puzzled expression flits on his face until he smooths it out. “Yes, um, that’s what I meant.”