Chapter 11
DANI
They were on their third scotch. Jordan's Macallan was taking a serious hit tonight, and at this rate the bottle wouldn't see the end of the charter.
"So now you know everything," Dani said, tucking her legs underneath her.
"I grew up in Orlando, worked hotels for six years after college, hated every second of it, moved to Key West on a whim, got tipped off you were hiring, and somehow convinced you to take a chance on me.
My sister lives in Tampa with her boyfriend and two kids who I spoil rotten every chance I get.
My mother calls me once a week to ask if I'm seeing anyone, but my dating history is best described as a graveyard of third dates.
That's the full picture." She took a sip.
"Also, I'm not good with hard liquor. This scotch is going to my head. "
"Same. I think I might regret this in the morning." Jordan leaned back, one knee pulled up, the glass resting against it. "But it's nice to know you a little better. You and your disastrous dating history." The whiskey had left a faint gloss on her lips that she licked away absently.
Dani shook her head and tried not to stare at her mouth. She should stop being nosy now. They'd covered enough heavy ground for one night, and Jordan had already given her more than she'd expected. But the scotch had dissolved whatever filter usually kept her from asking things she shouldn't.
"You said you stopped looking after Sam. But the casual hookups—is that enough for you?"
Jordan shrugged. "It's uncomplicated. Nobody expects anything the next morning. Nobody gets hurt. Isn't that what you said you do? Going into dates without expectations?"
"That's different. I go on actual dates. With conversation and food and the possibility of a second one. You're describing something that starts at last call and ends before breakfast."
"It works for me," Jordan said. She regarded Dani. "So what are you looking for on all these dates you go on? What's your type?"
Dani laughed. "I don't think I have one.
I've dated all over the map. Loud women, quiet women, sporty women, artsy women…
I think I just want someone who's steady and reliable.
Someone who actually does what they say they're going to do.
And there needs to be attraction of course.
Chemistry. That's important. Apparently that's a lot to ask. "
"It shouldn't be, if you're open to it."
"And yet here we are." Dani smiled. "What about you? If you were looking—and I know you're not—but if you were. What would your type be?"
Jordan considered this. "I've never really thought about it in those terms."
"Try."
"It would have to be someone who understood the job," she said.
"Someone who didn't need me to be available all the time.
Someone who was already part of this world, maybe.
" She looked at her glass. "Someone I trust and someone direct.
I'm terrible at reading signals, so if someone's interested, they'd need to actually tell me, because I won't pick up on it. "
Dani wasn't sure if she was describing a type or describing her, and she didn't trust herself to know the difference right now. Even though she'd always denied it, Lindsay had once told her her crush was so obvious it could be seen from space. So Jordan really was that oblivious.
"And physically?" Dani asked.
Jordan just looked at her, didn't answer.
And suddenly Dani was convinced she thought she was fishing—that this conversation had been a setup to find out if she was her type, which it absolutely wasn't, except that maybe it slightly was, and now she needed to fill the silence before it swallowed her whole.
"I mean, generally speaking. Like, celebrities.
Is there anyone famous you find attractive?
Just out of curiosity. This is just a getting-to-know-each-other conversation.
Girls' talk. Totally normal. Like, I think Cate Blanchett is—I mean, everyone thinks Cate Blanchett is—that's basically a universal fact at this point—"
"Dani, you're rambling again."
"I know."
"Which means you're nervous."
"I'm not nervous, I'm making conversation. This is good, right? We're talking. It's making things less awkward." Dani gestured between them with her glass, nearly sloshing scotch on the bedsheet. "Two colleagues. Chatting. Relaxed."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "You look about as relaxed as someone defusing a bomb." She grinned. "But to answer your question, physically my type would be…" She stopped. Looked at Dani again but remained silent.
The silence stretched just long enough for Dani to understand she wasn't going to.
That she'd chosen, in this moment, not to lie and not to tell the truth either.
Dani wanted to make a joke, change the subject, anything.
But her throat had gone dry and Jordan was still looking at her with those steady gray eyes.
"You have nice eyes," she heard herself say.
Oh god. Her face was on fire.
Jordan didn't react the way Dani expected. No deflection, no laugh.
"Yours are beautiful," she said quietly.
Then she looked down at her glass like she was surprised it was still in her hand. Her jaw tightened, just slightly. "It's late," she said. "We should probably call it a night."