Chapter 12
Nate
Washington D.C, afternoon…
Nothing had gone as planned for me. Not a damn thing.
The meeting with my COO in Miami had been quickly derailed when Tom came bearing bad news about the New Zealand hotel manager we’d hired to open the new property in a few months.
The guy had flown the coop already, after a competitor in Auckland had wooed him.
Tom and I quickly devised a new plan, and jetted to the nation’s capital in the middle of the night.
The D.C. property manager was our top guy, but his second-in-command was sharp as nails too, so could step in immediately.
We’d spent Saturday morning convincing the property manager to move halfway across the world to open up the New Zealand hotel.
The man was a D.C. native, and had only worked at properties in his hometown.
He drove a hard bargain too, and was asking for a hefty raise for the new international post. But by midday, he was leaning toward yes.
It was a yes I desperately sought, since I needed the New Zealand opening to go smoothly.
I planned to take him to dinner and then crash in D.C.
for the night. Hell, I needed some shut-eye.
I hadn’t slept the night before. Add in Joanna’s note to the mix, and it was one of those days where everything was piling on.
I had no clue what Joanna could possibly want to talk to me about, and very little interest in knowing either.
What sucked the most about this upended Saturday was that I was missing the game tonight.
I’d texted Casey earlier that I wouldn’t be able to join her, but I hadn’t heard back from her yet.
When I checked my phone once more for a reply, I cursed.
I must have sent her the text when I was in a dead spot in the lobby.
It hadn’t gone through. Fucking D.C. hotel had far too many dead zones.
This was one more thing I needed to add to the ever–spiraling to-do list. Improve the cell phone service at my hotel that served the nation’s political elite.
I shoved my hand roughly through my hair, and blew out a long stream of air as I leaned back in the leather chair in the office I was using at The Luxe.
I had just started to dial Casey’s number to tell her I had to cancel when my phone rang.
I was tempted to ignore Ethan, but decided to err on the side of being a good friend. I popped in my AirPods and answered.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Oh, not too much,” Ethan said with a hearty and deliberately drawn-out yawn. “Just tired still from another fantastic date with a pretty bartender.”
I smiled. This was the first bit of good news I’d had all day. “Excellent. Now I can say I told you so.”
“I owe you, man. Thanks for giving me the push to talk to her. I followed your advice and played the respectful card. I listened. I chatted. I asked questions.”
“Couldn’t be happier for you.”
“I’m seeing her again tonight,” he added as a new text message flashed across my screen. I sat up straight. My pulse raced when I saw the text had an attachment. Casey had sent me a photo. I tapped quickly to open it.
“I’m going to have to advertise my matchmaking services soon.”
“Or your kick-a-man-in-the-ass-to-get-him-moving services,” Ethan said as the picture filled my screen.
“Yeah, that too,” I said, and that quickening pulse went into overdrive when I saw the image. The gorgeous, stunning image of the woman I wanted desperately to see tonight.
But there was one big problem.
One huge problem, as a matter of fact.
The note that came with the picture.
My fists clenched as I read it. My jaw tightened. No way was she wearing that dress for Grant. No way was she wearing that dress for any other man.
Seconds later, her name popped up on the screen—incoming call.
“Hey, Ethan. I have to go. I have Casey on the other line.”
“Joy Delivered Casey?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah, that’s her,” I said, eager to end the call.
“You doing business with her? I emailed her a few days ago.”
Business. Yes, I had business with her. I absolutely had business with her. “You could say that,” I said, and then hung up and clicked over to Casey.
“I don’t like that dress,” I said through gritted teeth. Those were my first words.
“You don’t?” she asked, surprise in her voice.
“No. I don’t like it at all.”
“Oh. I thought it was pretty.” Now she sounded crestfallen. Shit. I hated upsetting her, but not as much as I loathed the idea of her looking that edible with another man. I grabbed a sheet of paper on my desk, crumpled it up and threw it across the room.
“Sorry. But I don’t think it’s a first date dress.”
“Okay,” she said, measured and cautious, like she was distancing herself from me. “Why do you sound so angry?”
“I’m not angry,” I said, but even I could hear the lie in the bitterness of my tone.
“But you sound angry,” she said softly. Traffic hummed behind her. She was probably out shopping in the Village, having fun, and I was ruining it for her. But that dress…fuck. I couldn’t take it. I dropped my forehead into my hand. “And you didn’t send me a picture last night either,” she added.
I sighed heavily. Everything had gone to hell, and on top of it all, Joanna had reared her head.
“I’m sorry. I had a ton of fires to put out.
I had to fly to D.C. in the middle of the night,” I said, but I stopped there.
I didn’t feel like breathing my ex’s name.
“And I tried to send you a text to tell you I can’t make the game tonight.
I have to take my property manager out to dinner to make sure he can take over the New Zealand hotel. ”
“Oh,” she said, but she didn’t sound so distant now. Just disappointed. Hell, I was disappointed too. Then she seemed to pull out of her frustrations, because her next words were sweet. “Well, I totally understand. I’m sorry you have to deal with all of that, but I know that’s just how it goes.”
“It’s been crazy. I’ve barely come up for air. I’m going to call my sister and let her know I can’t make the game too.”
“Well, I better go. I think I’m just going to get the dress anyway. I like it,” she said. “But I do appreciate your input.”
Several hours later, I couldn’t get Casey out of my mind.
As Tom and I finished up a round of celebratory drinks with the manager, who’d agreed to the last-minute transfer since we’d agreed to his terms, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Casey had sounded annoyed, then sad, then let down, then deliberately upbeat again.
I tried my best to focus on the men at the table with me in the corner booth at one of the capital’s finest watering holes.
But that dress was taunting me. It was an image I couldn’t shake. It was my sole focus.
And as we polished off a second round, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I scrubbed a hand across my unshaven jaw.
Hell, this was why I was the CEO. I oversaw the whole company.
I hired the right people, trusted the right people, and gave them authority to do their jobs.
I’d done my part in convincing this guy to head to the southern hemisphere—shown him his value to the company. Tom could handle the rest.
I had to see Casey. I had a lesson to teach her.