Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
O pening the cab door for Dakota, I wondered what the hell I thought I was doing. My absence at the party might not be noticed immediately, but it would be and there would be questions. I was supposed to be schmoozing the organization, not a random strange woman I’d met on the elevator.
But the last eighteen months had been a giant bag of dicks with my divorce and fighting for custody of my girls. It had been draining and I was fucking emotionally exhausted. There was nothing weighty about going ice skating with a stranger. No expectations, no image to preserve, no judgment of my ex, no worrying about my kids. Just fun.
It was Christmas, after all. The magic of the holidays.
“I wouldn’t have guessed Minnesota,” Dakota said as we got in the cab and the driver took off. “You don’t have the accent.”
“I moved to Texas at fifteen, then went to California for college. Then I spent a few years in Seattle. I had to get rid of all traces of accents or I would sound like who knows what. Using y’all and dontcha in the same sentence would be a mess.”
She laughed. “I guess so. Is that why you don’t seem cold? You should be freezing by now.”
“I run hot.” I did. I wasn’t trying to flirt. I wasn’t even sure I knew how at this point in my life, my game was so rusty.
Dakota raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t otherwise react to my comment.
“I’m excited to see the big tree,” she said. “It’s been a few years since I’ve made it to midtown this time of year. Life is too busy and I spend half my life on the train going between shoots and auditions. Stopping to see a tree seemed like way too much work.”
“Life does that to you. Where do you live?”
“Harlem.”
As far as the city went, that wasn’t all that far away from my apartment. Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. Even if I were interested in a relationship, which I wasn’t, Dakota was way too young. I needed a woman my own age, who had a regular schedule, and who liked kids. Who wasn’t in it just for my bank account. Who didn’t mind that I was out of town just about every other weekend from August to January, and who missed major holidays because of coaching. A woman who didn’t mind an angry ex-wife and my shitty attitude about parties.
Which was why I wasn’t interested in a relationship. I needed a nanny and a housekeeper more than a girlfriend. I wasn’t exactly available. That was an annoying thought. All the more reason to just live in the moment.
“We’re here,” I said. Just roll with it. Enjoy an hour or two with a woman who clearly embraced life fully.
That was confirmed when we stepped out of the cab and saw the giant tree lit up.
Dakota threw her hands up over her head. “Woo hoo! Yes! That is so awesome. It’s fantasy New York City.”
It was. I saw it through her eyes and I had to admit, it was beautiful. Crisp winter air, twinkling lights, the buzz of people. The wonder of a massive evergreen.
My jacket slid off her shoulders from her enthusiasm and I grabbed it before it hit the ground. “It is beautiful.” The tree. Her. “There’s a clothing store right there. Let’s grab you a coat.”
I tried to put my coat back over her shoulders but she brushed it off and took off running with a little shriek, rubbing her arms. For a second I stood there, caught totally off guard, but then I realized she was heading straight into the clothing store. She already had the door open so I shoved my arms back into my jacket and followed her. When I stepped into the store she was picking through a rack of sweaters.
“I’m so cold,” she said, laughing, jumping up and down a little. “I can’t feel my toes. But who needs them, right?” She grinned at me.
The contrast to my ex-wife was so glaring I didn’t even know how to react. My ex had been a complainer. She would never be laughing about being outside without a coat and would blame me for it.
“I’m guessing dancers might need their toes. We got here in the nick of time,” I told Dakota.
“Do you know when I was a teenager I wanted to be a Rockette so freaking bad?” She held up a fuzzy sweater, then put it back on the rack.
I didn’t know that and had no way of knowing that, but it seemed to fit her personality. “Did you audition?” I asked.
“No. I’m too tall. The dancers used to have to all be the same exact height. I surpassed that point at fourteen.” She eyed me. “Six foot four.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s your height. It’s my superpower. I can guess anyone’s height.”
“I don’t think that’s a superpower. But you’re right. I’m six foot four.”
“What’s your superpower besides being a hater?”
I meant to laugh, but it sounded more like a grunt. “It remains to be seen.” I brushed past her and picked a coat off the rack. It was nylon and went down to the knees. It had a fur-lined hood. “This is what you need.”
“Maybe that’s your superpower,” she said, accepting the coat from me. “Being there when people need you.”
She said it casually but with a smile. The words hit me in the gut. She had no way of knowing that what I wanted more than anything was to be the guy who was there for the people in his life. My girls, my players, my friends and family. It mattered to me to be a standup guy, loyal, and honest.
But lately everything had made me feel like I was failing.
Damn. Dakota was exactly what I had needed tonight.
“I try,” I told her.
She had slipped into the coat and I flipped the hood up over her head. The dark faux fur trim outlined her beautiful face, her blond hair pushing forward. It felt like the perfect frame, making her sensual lips jump out at me. I really fucking wanted to kiss her.
“Thanks for trying,” she said, voice a little husky. More serious than when she’d been teasing me in the carriage.
“Can I help you with anything?” a high voice demanded in a perky and aggressive manner.
Dakota turned, breaking the moment. There was a salesgirl at what felt like mere inches from us. Jesus. Where had she come from? But to be honest, I was glad she had interrupted us. I didn’t need to be kissing Dakota. Certainly not under the fluorescent lights in a discount clothing store.
“I’m buying this coat,” Dakota told her. “I’m ready to check out. Oh, wait, I need gloves too.” She turned to me and eyed me up and down. “You should buy a winter coat too. Or at least a scarf or something. You were worried about me skating in a gown, but you’re in a tight suit.”
She had a point. I had been bragging about my skating skills but I had never done it in Armani before. Suits were trending more tailored so I was pretty packed into it. But I wasn’t going down that easily. “Don’t worry about me. Just worry about tripping over all that fabric. Buy a pair of socks too, by the way.”
This had gotten complicated. But now we were both clearly determined to see it through.
“Oh, good point.” Dakota grabbed a pair of holiday socks off a rack on her way to the cashier.
They had reindeer on them. Bright green with red reindeer.
I couldn’t help but think about my ex again. She would never wear something so loud, even just for fun. She’d always been afraid of being judged by her invisible audience. Dakota not caring was a breath of fresh Christmas air. In the spirit, I grabbed a red knit hat with a retro-looking Santa on it. Around the band it said, “I do it for the hos.”
I was aware I was doing it as a test. To see how she would react.
She just laughed when she saw it. “Subtle.”
“I figured it was classier than the nutcracker one that said “Deez nuts.”
“Fair enough.” Dakota told the cashier, “I don’t need a bag.” She then ripped off the tags with an impressive snap.
She pulled on the coat and stuffed the tags in the pocket, while the cashier rang up my hat. She tried to rip the gloves apart, but the plastic was thicker. She tugged harder. “Stubborn little jerk.”
“Let me try.”
For a second, I thought she was going to be equally stubborn and refuse but she begrudgingly handed it over. I snapped the plastic easily. When she raised her eyebrows I shrugged. “I have big hands.”
“I noticed.” Her head had tilted, lips parting.
That was flirting. I may have been out of the game for years, but I wasn’t an idiot. My dick got hard. I tapped my credit card on the scanner with barely a glance. “It has its advantages.”
She nodded. “I bet you’ve never met a pickle jar you couldn’t open.”
Not exactly what I’d been thinking. Hell, maybe I’d read her wrong. I took the hat from the cashier and absently thanked her. “Maybe that’s my superpower.”
Dakota laughed. “I think you can do better than that.”
“Maybe.” Then I winced at the song that started blaring over the speakers. “Let’s go. I hate this song.” The forced cheerfulness of that fake kid demanding a hippopotamus. It was just too much.
“You can’t hate this song. That’s impossible. No one hates this song.”
“A lot of people hate this song.” I opened the door for her. “I bet it’s sixty-forty in favor of hatred.”
“That makes you a Scrooge. Hates parties and hippopotamuses.”
“Is that even a word? Hippopotamuses? Isn’t the plural just hippopotamus?”
“I have no idea.”
“Me either. I’m going to look that up later.”
“You’re avoiding the real issue,” she said, as we crossed the street to the ice rink. “Your grumpiness.”
I wasn’t offended. I was just amused. “Because I don’t like parties and grating Christmas songs that have nothing to actually do with Christmas? So what? You can’t like everything.”
“I do,” she said. “I like everything.”
It was a ridiculous statement. No one could possibly like everything. But she didn’t seem to care.
“Brandon, look! There’s almost no one in line. Our timing is perfect. Let’s go.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me forward.
I went. Very, very willingly.