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“Ready to go?” I ask as I step up beside him, my hand outstretched.
He turns to me, his eyes soft and his heart on his sleeve. Grasping the hand I’ve offered, he murmurs, “I’m ready, Kitten.”
16
AMBER BY 311
JAY
“Do you have to be home by a certain time?” I ask as we walk out of the Beacon Hotel.
Cat glances at her phone and then looks back up at me. “I’m actually staying in the city tonight. Meeting up with a friend later.”
“Ah, Friday night out in Boston. Doing anything exciting?”
She fidgets with the sleeve of her jacket. “Um, we’re having dinner at her place. Nothing fancy.”
Dinner at her place. That sounds like a date. Normally, I wouldn’t be jealous of a woman spending time with the woman I’mtryingto spend time with, but I’m thrown after our conversation.
“That’s nice. Can I drop you somewhere?” I ask.
Her face falls. “Um, sure. But I can just head back to the office myself. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Did I say something wrong?
The easy conversation we had in the restaurant, even with the heavy topics, has almost evaporated.
“Is it a date?” I ask, getting straight to the point. I avoid relationships because I don’t trust women—or people, for that matter—in general, but I want to try with this one. Which means open communication. If she will only ever be a friend, that’s fine, but I need to know that now.
She frowns. “Is what a date?”
I sigh and focus on the brick of the hotel’s façade just over her shoulder. “The dinner tonight. Is it a date?” I force myself to turn back to her, and before my eyes, her expression softens, and a smile graces her gorgeous face.
She runs a finger between my brows, smoothing out the crease. Then, featherlight, her knuckle dances down my face. I melt against her touch.
“No,” she says, pulling her hand back. “It’s just dinner with a friend and her parents.”
“Oh,” I say, a breath of relief whooshing from my lungs. I like that answer a bit too much.
“If you aren’t busy, I still have a few hours until I’m supposed to meet her,” she offers.
I accept way too quickly.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re standing outside James Liquors Headquarters, and I’m feeling a lot less positive. “What are we doing here?”
“I want to show you something,” she says, tugging me toward the front doors by my hand.
I dig my heels in. “I’m not going in there.”
She rolls her eyes. “Why?”
“You do realize my family is their biggest competitor, right?” I say, holding the bridge of my nose, trying to fight back the migraine I feel coming on. It happens every time I think about this family, which is pretty often, considering Carter believes we’re best friends.
“Yeah, I’m not an idiot. We’re not going into the corporate offices, crazy. We’re going to the roof.”
Her surprising aloofness makes me smile. “The roof?”
She grins. “Just trust me?”
