Chapter 8 Kat
kat
I’m very, very confused.
In front of me, I have my date, who in the matter of a split-second went from charming and warm to stiff and silent. To my right there’s a man who could win the New York City Santa Claus contest and apparently knows my name. Behind him is a waitress who just wants to take our orders.
I wish she could. My stomach is growling, and I have a feeling I’m about to lose my appetite.
“Grayson, Katherine, I’m glad you both could make it.” Santa extends his hand as Grayson stands to shake it.
“Absolutely,” Grayson says. “But I thought you were out of town all weekend. We’re still meeting Monday, correct?”
Meeting Monday? I have a meeting on Monday. There seem to be a lot of meetings on Monday…
“That was the plan,” Santa says. “But have you seen the weather report?”
Grayson shakes his head. I definitely have no clue what Santa is talking about.
“Oh, we’re about to get a whopper of a snow storm,” Santa says. “And right at Christmas. How poetic! It looks like Rudolph will be coming out of retirement this year!”
And he makes Christmas jokes? I’m so fucking confused, which is what I’m guessing Santa sees when he turns to talk to me.
“Katherine, so good to meet you,” Santa says. “I’ve heard nothing but amazing things about you and your work from my son.”
I stand up and smooth down my dress—a fitted one Katherine would never be seen in. Rarely do Kat and Katherine have to actually coexist, but here we go. “Hello. I’m sorry for my about-to-be rudeness, but I seem to be missing a few pages…”
Santa laughs. And I’m talking full on, stomach-like-a-bowl-full-of-cherries, laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m the rude one. Howard Williams, owner of the Timberline Inn.”
“Oh,” I know I sound surprised, and it’s because I am. “I was told by Logan that Declan Williams was the owner.”
“That would be my son, the soon-to-be owner,” Howard says. “I’ve run this place for forty-five years. Took it over from my father, who built it with his bare hands in 1960. Though, I’ve always doubted that story.”
I laugh. “I’m sure his blood, sweat, and tears were poured into this no matter how it happened. And I must tell you, the entire property is beautiful.”
“There seems to be a lot of beauty here tonight.”
Anything else I was about to say leaves my brain as a younger, and quite good-looking, man walks up next to Howard. He might not be Santa, but I can see the resemblance by their sparkling blue eyes. And if this is what Howard looked like when he was younger, then hot damn…Santa used to get it.
“You’re too kind,” I say as I extend my hand. “Katherine Smith.”
“Declan Williams. A pleasure to meet you.”
We exchange a handshake—it’s firm, which is always a good sign.
I hate when men don’t grasp my hand simply because I’m a woman.
I’m also ignoring the “beauty” comment he made.
I don’t want to make any assumptions about him either way, and even though he might be very handsome, he’s not my kind of handsome.
Except the man who is my kind of handsome is staring at us like he wants to rip someone to shreds.
"Would you two care to join us?" I ask.
"Oh, we don't want to interrupt," Howard says.
"No, please." Grayson speaks up. “I’d love to hear how we're all brought together like this.”
His choice of words throws me, and as we settle in, I really try to figure out what has changed in the past five minutes, other than our guests.
His shoulders are tense. His expression is flat.
A little angry? Or am I making that up? The vibe has definitely shifted so I don’t know if he’s actually mad or if I’m imagining it.
What would he be mad at? Or who? Howard interrupting?
Declan’s existence? Me? No. That can’t be it.
I mean, I’ve made plenty of people mad over the years.
But in this case, I don’t think I did anything wrong.
When I piss people off, I generally like to know what I did.
You know, in case I want to do it again.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Howard says, taking a seat between Grayson and I. ”I didn't realize the two people Declan and I are talking to about possible media plans knew each other.”
I snap my head to Grayson then back to Howard. “Two people?”
I don't mean to say it out loud, but it slips. That’s his Monday meeting? His Monday meeting is the same as my Monday meeting?
Oh now it all makes sense. That’s why his demeanor changed the instant I told him what I did for a living. Why he’s glaring at me with narrowed eyes. Though I feel like that reaction is a little overdramatic. I’m just his competition; nothing to get your boxers in a twist about.
Except that I’ve never had competition who’s bent me over and fucked me in a shower.
As my brain plays catch up, every swirling thought crashes together as I fully put together the entirety of this situation:
Grayson is my competition.
He works in my industry.
Which means our relationship, or whatever this was going to be, is over before it even begins.
I swallow the lump in my throat and push back a pesky tear at the realization.
Years ago, I made a vow to myself that never again would I date inside the PR world. Not coworkers. Not competition. Not anyone. It only leads to heartbreak, deceit, and a fear of trust that will take you years to recover from.
I glance over to Grayson, who’s listening intently to whatever Howard is saying. I knew things were too good to be true. I knew there was something that was going to come out of left field and wallop me upside the head.
I just never thought it would be this.
But I can’t be sad about that. Not now. I have to get into Katherine mode. Especially since my adversary is looking at me like someone he’s trying to take down instead of someone he’s trying to go down on.
“May I ask, why did you bring two of us in?” Grayson asks. “I was under the impression from my boss at Sterling Strategies that you had just reached out to us.”
Sterling Strategies? They're a big deal in the Nashville PR scene. I know that most of the pitches I’ve gone on, they’ve also been trying to obtain the client.
They do good work, from the campaigns I’ve seen.
Maybe a little too standard and boring for my taste, but to each their own.
They have a good rep and get the job done.
“I’m sorry if we gave that impression to you both,” Howard begins.
“And nothing against you, Miss Smith, but I’ve done business with Sterling Strategies for years.
Well, as much as a family-owned inn in the Smoky Mountains can need media help.
Mostly just new ways to draw in tourists, you know, that sort of thing.
But every time we’ve called on Sterling, they’ve always given us great results. ”
“On behalf of the company, we appreciate that,” Grayson says, suddenly more chummy with Howard than he was five minutes ago. “Melinda has said wonderful things about you. I’m honored she entrusted me to help you with whatever your needs are.”
I didn’t get the ass kisser vibes from Grayson, but here we are. Just like every other corporate bro when they see a commission…
“Thank you,” Howard says. “I knew the hotel needed an upgrade, but what we did with the renovation was all Declan’s idea. His vision for the property is more than I, or his grandfather, could’ve ever imagined.”
“It’s just moving ahead with the times,” Declan says as he turns to me.
“My goal has been to make sure that the Timberline keeps the charm and nostalgia that people have loved about it for three generations. The bricks, the wood floors and framing, the high ceilings...the rustic experience. That’s our bread and butter, and I didn’t want to lose that. ”
“I promise you didn’t,” I say. “This whole place is absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you,” he says with a flirtatious smile.
Note to self: Keep Declan an arms-length away.
At least until I can truly get a read on him.
“But while we want to keep the same charm, it’s going to be imperative that we attract new clientele.
The younger generation that would rather stay in Air BnBs or a cabin in the mountains.
I want to offer them high-end dining, but with an affordable price tag.
Excursions. Experiences. And with those new ideas, I wanted to also bring in a new perspective.
Someone who hadn’t done business with us in the past and maybe could offer a fresh approach. ”
If I listen closely enough, I swear I can hear Grayson mumbling something under his breath.
Oh, this man is pressed…which can only give me an advantage in the long run.
“That's why I reached out to Logan,” Declan continues. “He raved about you when we met at the Under-40 Business Conference last year. How you single-handedly took GameTech from the kitchen table to a billion-dollar enterprise is…it’s absolutely fascinating. And, well, I don't know if we’re ever going to have the word billions in our title, but I’d sure like to see what you can help us with. ”
“Never say never. When Logan came up with SpaceCraft, we were two dumb kids eating bad Chinese food on a wobbly kitchen table. If you have the dream, I say the sky’s the limit.
” I turn to give a soft smile to Howard.
“You and your family really have built something amazing here.
I'm just going to help you come up with the best way to make sure everybody knows about it.”
Grayson loudly clears his throat at my deliberate choice of words. He’s so sensitive. Good to know.
“By the end of the day on Monday, you’ll have the absolute best options for whatever your needs are,” Grayson says. “Whether that’s the brand-new idea from a person you just met, or your tried and true—and proven—option—either way, you’ll be in the best hands possible.”
For the first time since Howard and Declan have sat down, Grayson and I really look at each other, and not as people who are going to rip each other’s clothes off later. Foes. Rivals. One winner. One loser.
Sure, there’s heat between us still. But now it’s about winning.
I might not be overly competitive in day-to-day life, but when I know there’s a prize at stake, there’s no option of me not getting it.
So sorry, Grayson…you might’ve made me squirt.
You might look sexy as hell with that perfect scruff.
And I might’ve had thoughts about taking that dark green button down you’re wearing and slipping it on while you fuck me in it.
But when it comes to winning and losing, I don’t lose.
Ever.
“So are we still planning to meet on Monday?” I ask. “You said something earlier about the weather?”
“Yes, the original reason that we rudely interrupted your dinner,” Declan says. “The snow is supposed to do its worst overnight Sunday to Monday. We were seeing, since you were both here, if we could move the meetings up to tomorrow so we can get you both out of here and not ruin your holiday.”
“Of course.”
Grayson and I say the same thing in unison, but he’s not quick enough, so I get the next word. “Tomorrow is great.”
Sure, I had plans tomorrow of being naked for most of the day and working on my presentation in between rounds, but that’s now out the door.
“Excellent,” Howard says, clapping his hands as he stands up. “Thank you both again for coming. Enjoy your dinner tonight. It’s on us.”
I tell both Howard and Declan goodnight, and Grayson does the same. We both sit back down and there’s silence between us. Neither of us are blinking. No one wants to break first.
No one wants to lose.
Oh Grayson…this weekend just got a different kind of fun.