He was running down the block, pushing a double stroller.
Nate clapped his friend on the back when he pulled up next to them, breathing hard. “Look at you. Dog, two kids, and the double wide. Such the family man now. I’d give you a hard time if you were married to anyone but my sister,” Nate said, and Bryan rolled his eyes.
“Thanks man. I appreciate the un-compliment.”
“Hey,” Kat said softly to Bryan, then pecked him on the cheek before she bent down to coo at her daughters. Nate joined in, because his nieces, Chloe and Cara, were pretty much the cutest babies in the whole world.
“Why don’t you boys take Indiana Jones for a walk and I’ll get the girls fed,” Kat said, switching places. Bryan handed off the stroller, and she gave him the leash then turned around. “Bye, Nate. Don’t forget, if you get those tickets for the Yankees game, I want in. I’ll get a sitter.”
He saluted her his yes, since he’d been in touch with his contact who’d always snagged him box seats at the game. “Consider it done.”
“Um, excuse me,” Bryan said, holding up a hand. “I’d like to claim one of those tickets too.”
“We’ll see, buddy,” Nate said.
Kat shrugged playfully at her husband. “What can I say, Bryan? He likes me better than you.” She blew kisses in the air and walked off.
Bryan looked at the Dachshund, and shook his head. “I’m a man with a hot dog now. And my friend won’t even score Yankees tickets for me.”
“Hey, that’s a prize dog. Don’t put Indiana Jones in the middle of your mid-life crisis,” Nate joked, pointing to the pooch, who happily trotted towards the park.
“So what’s the latest with you?” Bryan said, wiping off the sweat on his brow with his T-shirt. “I trust you have stories to tell me of your trip to New Orleans? Regale me with your tales.”
Nate laughed, but didn’t plan on giving up any intel on the woman he’d spent the night with in the Big Easy. “Hardly.”
“Oh, c’mon. You falling down on that score?”
“Never,” he said, and his mind was right back to Casey, on the look on her face on the airplane yesterday. The way her eyes floated closed, how her breath hitched, how she bit down hard on his hand when she came. He glanced at his palm, almost wishing there were imprints from her. Evidence of her passion.
Nate’s phone buzzed. He grabbed it in case it was an urgent work call. He needed to return to the office tonight anyway. The message was from Ethan, who he’d reached out to earlier in the day about grabbing a beer.
“Beer is always good. I’m free tonight or tomorrow.”
He gestured to the screen. “Ethan Holmes. I need to reconnect with him.”
But he needed to reconnect with Casey too. And he’d been mulling over the best way to take the next step with her. Even though he wasn’t wooing her or courting her, he wanted to rock her world with this sexual boot camp.
And that’s when he realized what was needed next. Supplies for their training.
“Hey, I gotta take off,” he said, and turned tail, texting Casey to let her know she’d need a new email address for him to use as her “teacher.”
* * *
“You should ask for her number,” Nate said later that evening, gesturing to the very pretty bartender at Speakeasy, the bustling midtown establishment where he and Ethan had knocked back a few beers and talked shop. Ethan was high up at Victoria Hotels, and had peppered Nate with some questions about how to tackle the image issues his company faced. The classy hotel was no longer cutting it on the gold-plated ambiance and needed to go younger, hipper, cooler, Ethan admitted. Nate offered his advice where he could, glad that the two were back in touch. They'd been work friends at The Luxe, but hadn't talked much when they were both candidates for the top job. That had been a tense few weeks, both men vying for one spot. When Nate had landed the coveted position after an exhaustive internal and external search, Ethan took him out to toast, but it had been a strained night, and the man had remained in a bit of a funk for the months that followed. Nate was glad that they'd both moved on now, and could chat again about work and women.
His friend peered at the woman behind the bar, pointing to a redhead with a round belly. He cocked his head to the side, looking at Nate as if he had grown horns. “The pregnant one? Pretty sure that belly means she’s taken.”
Nate laughed and shook his head. “Not Julia. The hot brunette who's been giving you the eye. Julia told me her name is Danya. She’s been taking on more hours, since Julia’s cutting back a bit in a few more months,” he said.
“You think I should just go right up to her and ask for her number?”
“Just talk to her. That's what I'd do.”
Ethan scoffed and pushed a hand through his blond hair. “I’m sure a beautiful bartender at a classy establishment in Manhattan doesn’t get hit on very much at all.”
“You never know if someone is game unless you try. I need to take off, so give it a shot,” Nate said, and when Ethan shrugged, rose and walked over to Danya, he wanted to pump his fist. She shot him a wide smile, and they seemed to fall into conversation easily.
“Need another?”
Nate turned to Julia, shaking his head. “Nah. Closing time for me. I’ve got a laptop calling my name for the next few hours,” he said, then slapped down some bills to pay for the drinks, leaving a sizable tip for her. He figured she deserved an extra twenty percent on top of everything else for managing a bar with a belly that big.
She scooped up the cash, and blew him a kiss. "Thanks for coming by. Don’t stay up too late working. I’ll tell Clay you said hi.”
“And let him know I'll follow up soon about Brent and his clubs. I've got a trip to Vegas on the calendar, so I'll meet him then.”
“Absolutely.”
As she moved to a new customer, his phone buzzed, and a kernel of excitement tore through him like a comet flaring across the night. When Casey’s name popped up in his inbox, his dick twitched, hardening instantly. Damn organ; her name already elicited a Pavlovian response in him. His dick saluted anytime she was near.
He tapped open the email, re-reading the note he’d sent her a few hours ago.
from: [email protected]
date: June 6, 6:57 PM