Chapter 3
kat
Fuck, I like this guy.
I really, really, like this guy.
Like I need to not like this guy the way I like this guy.
Okay, maybe that’s not the way to describe it.
There’s no need for me to not like him. He’s good looking.
Smart. Funny. The vibes have been there since the moment he sat down across from me.
I’m not sure exactly what he does for work, but judging by the drinks he’s ordered, and the liquor he’s asked them to make it with, while also paired with his expensive watch and designer jeans, I’m going to say he’s doing well for himself.
The Katherine part of my brain is saying he’s checking off all the early boxes. But Katherine is also an overthinker and remembers the last time a good-looking man who wore expensive clothes and smelled like sin and seduction came walking into my life.
It was bad. Very bad. It ended bad, and it’s the reason for most of my trust issues.
Yet as Grayson comes walking back over with our drinks, me, right now as Kat, is telling Katherine to fuck all the way off.
Because the way he’s holding himself, the slight grin on his handsome face, and the fact that he’s giving me a forearm show as he has his sleeves pushed up, the thoughts I’m having are purely Kat thoughts.
They’re dirty. So fucking dirty.
“Here we are, one gingerbread old fashioned,” Grayson says, placing my drink at the table we found at a cute pop-up holiday bar just off Broadway.
We didn’t mean to come here, but we couldn’t help it when we walked past, saw the fun ambiance, and then heard the music the DJ was playing. “Shall we make a toast?”
I pick up my drink and lean into him. Because even though my Katherine brain is telling me to be cautious, my Kat body is clearly operating by the motto of “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”
“I think it’s a rule you have to.”
“To holiday magic,” he says.
“And to the presents you didn’t expect to get.”
We share a smile and tap our glasses, each of us taking a delicate sip of the—
“Damn, this is good!” I exclaim.
Luckily, my outburst only makes him laugh. “You don’t hold back your feelings, do you?”
I laugh as I put down the rocks glass. “Oh, I’m a straight shooter. I can have a poker face, but if you ask me what I’m thinking, I’m not going to mince words. It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“I think it’s a blessing,” he says. “You always know where you stand with someone.”
I playfully wag my finger at him. “You say that now, then one day you’re asking me a question and you don’t like the answer, and then boom! You never call me again.”
This makes him smile. “I like the idea of calling you at any point.”
Interesting he took that part of the conversation to pick up on.
I could tell this man was riding the line between cocky asshole and confident man from the second he sat down.
That’s probably why the Katherine part of my brain started sending small red alerts.
Because this guy is my type, through and through.
And the cockier he is, the more attracted I am. It’s a character flaw.
“We’re just assuming that I’m going to give you my number?”
The challenging looks we’re giving to each other right now, the ones filled with determination, but also a little lust…this is why I like cocky men. Because I’m a cocky girl. Both Kat and Katherine. And if the banter and the sparring is there… Well, there’s nothing hotter.
“I’m not assuming,” he says as he leans a little closer. “But I calculated the odds, and I think when it comes to leaving here with your number, my chances are pretty high.”
“You’re a betting man?”
He nods as his hand “slips” down to brush the top of mine. I must say, it was a good move. “A blackjack table hates to see me coming.”
“I’m more of a craps girl myself.”
I swear at that moment, I see an actual spark of fire ignite in his eye. “Not an easy game.”
“It’s all about the strategy,” I say. “Which is my forte.”
“I like it,” he says as he continues to brush his fingers over my hand. With every touch, and every swoop, I swear a new goosebump pops up somewhere on my body. “What else would you consider your fortes?”
Check box for Katherine: He’s asking questions about me. Not domineering the conversation.
Check box for Kat: God, he smells fucking good.
“Let’s see, as you saw earlier, my trivia skills are unmatched. I’m fluent in French, and I can name most tunes in less than five notes. Well, anything released before 2020.”
“It’s when the best music was developed.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “Oh, and my career. I know everyone thinks, or wants, to be the best at their job, but I really am.”
Grayson has been showing interest with everything I’m saying. But I swear, at this moment, he’s maybe more turned on than ever.
“Really? A very rare pairing to have two people who are dominating in their career fields meet up.”
“I believe it’s what the business world calls a ‘power couple.’”
“I’ve always wanted to be in one of those,” he says. “So, what field do you dominate in?”
Just as I’m about to tell him about my job in media strategies—and the very unconventional way that I’ve taken my career—the DJ changes the song and both of our eyes light up.
“What about dancing?” he asks. “Is that a forte?”
I subtly shake my head. “Not really. I’m not horrible at it, but I wouldn’t put it on my top list of special skills.”
“Well, I do,” he says, standing up and holding out his hand. “Let’s put those skills on display.”
Fuck, he can dance, too? I’m going to have sex tonight, aren’t I?
“I’m going to warn you, I’m not trying to be coy,” I say as I give him my hand. “I’m really not much of a dancer.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Grayson leads me to the dance floor of the bar, which is packed with people who are all dressed as festively as the bar is decorated. It’s a good excuse for Grayson to pull me closer, both of our hands now linked as we start feeling the beat of the music.
He wasn’t lying. He is good. His hips are subtly moving to every beat perfectly—the slight bounce of his shoulders, the way he leads me with his hands without being forceful, all while staying on perfect beat.
It’s fucking sexy.
“So we have this forte,” I say. “What are some others I need to be aware about?”
“Well,” he says as he changes his hand position, bringing our joined ones to the small of my back so he can bring me in closer.
To some the move might feel a little bold, but not to me.
I fucking love it. “I also have my career. Baseball. And, my hidden talent, that very few people know about, is that I can play the piano. Pretty well, actually.”
I wasn’t expecting that one. “Really? How long?”
“Since I was a kid,” he says. “My mother was insistent that we all did something in the fine arts, at least until we were in high school. My sister danced. My older brother took up art. And me? Piano, for some reason, called my name. My grandparents had one, and I loved plonking away on it. I quit taking lessons and seriously playing in high school, but if I saw one today, I’m sure I could whip a little something up. ”
“When I see videos of piano players playing something classical, then it switches to a rap song, I’m always amazed.”
This makes him smile. “Funny you say that, because that specific kind of music, that’s also my forte.”
We share a smile in the silence, but it’s not awkward.
Not at all. Yes, there are a million more questions we could ask each other.
But as the song changes from the fast and upbeat song we were just dancing along with to a slower, more sensual song, neither of us feel the need to fill in the silence.
Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me in tighter, both of us just feeling the beat of the music between us.
This is not how I expected this night to go.
If I would’ve put a prediction on my evening, I’d have put all my money in on by this time I’d already be home.
That I would’ve made a beeline for the exit the second trivia was over, picked up some Taco Bell on the way home—because Taco Bell is elite and I’ll hear no arguments against it—and I’d be sitting in front of the television, watching the latest episode of reality trash television that’s my dirty little secret while enjoying a Baja Blast.
But here I am. I let Kat take over for just a little bit tonight, and I’m now dancing with a handsome man who’s making me think and feel things I was beginning to believe I left in Los Angeles.
The music comes to a stop, but neither of us pull away. The DJ announces that it’s last call at the bar, which makes my stomach sink. I’m not ready for this night to end. Not yet.
“Want to go one more place?” I ask.
His smile is instant. “What do you have in mind?”
“Hot dogs?”
I look over my shoulder to Grayson, who’s just looking at me with a smirk. “Yes hot dogs. I’m hungry, and they’re right here.”
We step up in line and each order two—mine with ketchup and relish, his with mustard and sauerkraut.
“You know, for our first dinner together, I thought it would be somewhere fancier. Cloth napkins. Good bourbon. You in a dress that would drive me crazy.”
I smile as we step aside to wait for our order. “That can happen. Just this first.”
He casually reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together as we talk about more of nothing as we wait for our order. Once our food is secured, we head down to the river, finding benches that overlook the Cumberland. It’s the perfect spot to end a perfect night.
“Okay, I know I was teasing earlier, but this is absolutely hitting the spot,” he says as he takes a big bite out of his dog. “These get a lot of hate, but I love a good hot dog.”
“For sure,” I say as I also take a bite of mine. “Plus, it’s the perfect gateway for the best ice breaker debate of all time.”
His face turns into pure excitement. “Are you talking about the age-old debate if a hot dog is a sandwich?”