Chapter 17
seventeen
PRESENT DAY
brANDON
“Isee Kendra’s got you on schmooze duty.” Val chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder as he and Amantha finish climbing the museum steps.
The winter evening is still, blanketed by thick clouds that occasionally flick a fluttering snowflake. One settles into Amantha’s dark blonde hair. She’s twisted it into something way fancier than usual. Val leads Amantha through the heavy door that I hold open for them.
I’m finally over the stupid cold I had last week and am happy to be back to work.
I love these events. People turning up to support a good cause gives me more hope in humanity.
And I can’t deny that I’m excited to see Kate.
A week is too long to go without annoying her.
Yeah, I know she went on a date last weekend, but there’s zero chance that guy makes it to the second round.
Even we didn’t last very long together—only about two months.
She made sure of that.
A tiny crease appears between Val’s brows. Most people wouldn’t notice the minute change in his expression, but Val and I have gotten somewhat close over the last six months. Friendly enough to know when each other’s climate changes, at least. He must be reading my expression, too.
So I slide on a cocky grin like a familiar worn t-shirt. “Yeah, I’m Kendra’s right-hand man for the whole Historic Scavenger Hunt. Wouldn’t want to waste a face like this on coat duty, would we?”
“At least no one can say you aren’t confident.
” Amantha laughs. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s admirable.
” Her voice is soft and tinkly, though there are pools of mischief in her gray eyes.
“Has Kate arrived yet? Thanks to you and Val running it all, we technically have the night off. But she said she was coming anyway.”
My smile spreads like butter in a hot pan. “Not yet. But I’ll let you know when she does. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
Val stiffens at the word “pretty,” and his look of warning hits me in the face.
I tip an apologetic shrug, and he gives an exasperated chuckle. Flirting is my first language, and it’s surprisingly hard to turn off sometimes.
Val turns back to his fiancée, takes the coat covering Amantha’s purple dress, and walks to the circulation desk where Rick stands waiting beside a coat rack.
Rick’s blue jumpsuit has been swapped for a suit and crimson necktie.
His gray hair sticks up like a crazed concert pianist, and he tosses a grin at me. I wave back.
“Hello,” I say to a stiff, taxidermic couple as they pass through the doorway.
“Hi.” I nod to a tiny woman with a cane.
“Welcome to the Historic Scavenger Hunt for Charity. Stop by the circulation desk, and our staff will provide you with a list of artifacts to search for. Once you find them all, you can return the list and get your raffle ticket.”
The tiny lady wobbles off in the wrong direction, so I wave and snap at an intern, and he chases after her.
“Welcome, welcome,” I say to another pair of newcomers. I straighten my tuxedo jacket and black bow tie. It’s a frigid night in Chicago, and the cold is biting. I’m grateful for the warm air whooshing out of the brightly lit lobby every time I open the door.
I finish giving my spiel before I circle back to find a new person walking up the steps.
It’s not winter anymore.
No, it’s a scorching summer’s day. Sweltering heat burns through the layers of my tuxedo before it pools in my stomach. No one has a right to look this good.
Kate is a walking felony as she ascends the museum steps like she owns them. Matter of fact, with all the attempts to ban me from her “territories” lately, I bet she thinks she does.
Even though she’s wearing a cream-colored overcoat, a slip of her bare leg pushes through the long hem, and I’m in severe peril of becoming undone.
Kate does a bajillion different hairstyles on the regular, but she doesn’t usually make her straight hair curly. Tonight, the thick, black strands twist this way and that as they cascade down her back.
No matter how hot she looks or how hot I feel, what truly does me in are the black gloves she’s wearing.
In an instant, those black gloves are threading between my fingers in Jackson Park on a deserted December night.
I’m tugging them, kissing Kate’s cheek, feeling her warmth.
Then, I’m smooth-talking my way out of mattress store jail, telling the pissed off employees that I indeed needed to test the mattress before buying it.
And yes, that included jumping on it. If they didn’t want my business, or if this was how they treated all of their loyal customers, then I didn’t want to buy one anyway.
During that cosmic-kissed night, Kate had let me in. Literally. Snuck me through her dormitory at two a.m. after the mattress freaks released me and made true to her promise of showing me the ugly cherry blossom painting. Kate hadn’t been lying about how horrendous it was—it hurt to look at it.
But I still couldn’t help liking it because it was a part of her.
After our late-night conversations finally ended, I rode home on my motorcycle knowing it wasn’t the painting I couldn’t help liking. It was her. I guess not much changes over the years, despite how desperately I wish it would.
Kate flicks her gaze over my body so quickly, she could probably gaslight me that I imagined it. But both her bouncing left knee and I know the truth.
“Katie.” I dip my head toward her. “You’re looking especially dangerous tonight.”
She tries not to make eye contact. “I didn’t know my pepper spray was visible through my purse, but yes, Brandon. I am dangerous. Keep that in mind.”
“Trust me, I will treasure that tantalizing information for as long as humanly possible.” I darken my voice, my breath clouding in the too-wide space between us.
Kate’s lips twitch, and her gorgeous eyes finally meet mine.
I never did figure out how the sun could shine through such dark brown irises, but if the caramel flecks caught the light just right, it was enough to bring a man to his knees.
Unfortunately, her obsidian eyes are anything but warm right now. I fight back a shiver, the winter air suddenly biting again.
“Sorry I’m late, Kate.” An overgrown schoolboy in a tuxedo hurdles the short wall lining the bottom step.
The thirty-something man pulls up short, breath puffing like a toy choo-choo train.
His short hair is so blonde it almost glows.
“My operation ran late, and traffic was a nightmare. Woah, you look incredible. You always do, but tonight especially. I mean, I think—”
Even though it’s the dumbest compliment I’ve ever heard, Kate’s scarlet lips pull into a smile.
“Thanks. I’m glad you could make it,” she says.
My stomach thuds as she weaves those black gloves through his fingers and turns.
“Aren’t you supposed to open the door or something?” she asks.
“Oh, I can—” Blondie starts, but I cut in and sweep open the door.
“For you, Kate, anything.”
I wink.
She scowls.
Whatever-his-name-is frowns.
As they walk into the echoing lobby, I hear him ask, “Do you know him or something?”
“Unfortunately, I do. We’re co-workers.”
“Oh.” Dumb-nuts frowns again, but I watch him ease the expression off like he does Kate’s coat.
Instantly, the heat in my stomach is singeing all over again.
Kate has on a very short dress that exposes her toned legs.
She’s painted in gold leaf, the dress’s tiny straps spaced so wide they’re a whisper away from falling off her shoulders.
He places a hand on the small of her back as they walk, the tips of her long hair brushing his skin.
I swallow and turn back to the winter night, but each spike of her high heels drives me crazy. Kate never uses her plus-one to these events. In fact, I’ve overheard her tell Amantha that she’d rather get a bikini wax by a blindfolded person than bring a guy around work.
If this is the same guy she went out with last week, this is likely their second date.
Which means Kate has actually gotten serious for once, or she’s being blackmailed.
I’m betting on the blackmail.
Empty checkboxes stare up at me from my clipboard. I twirl the pen I stole from the circulation desk and rap the clipboard with it. I wasn’t planning on participating in the scavenger hunt, but Kendra said she didn’t need me until the raffle begins.
I spot Kate and Peter Pan’s lost boy near the Ancient Egyptian display. After planting myself behind a shadowed wall near the doorway, I hear him mansplain to Kate—the assistant who helped curate this very exhibition—how hieroglyphics work.
She’s going to hate that.
I break into a huge grin, relief cooling my jets. It was dumb of me to be worried. This guy seems about as interesting as mayonnaise.
I’m counting down the seconds until she tells him off, but I’m close to twenty-four when I stop.
My eyebrows furrow as I glance around the wall.
His arm is a snake as it wraps around her waist. She smiles up at him before checking the “Egyptian Scarab” box on their clipboard.
“Thanks for explaining.” Her voice is saccharine sweet. “I’ve always wondered.”
I scrub a hand over my open jaw. What game is she playing?
There are only two explanations, and they both piss me off. One: she’s changing herself to impress him, which makes him an idiot and her desperate—which I know she’s not. Or two: something in her life has rocked her so hard that she’s buying into her mother’s crap again.
Anger burns beneath my skin. Kate needs to be reminded of who she is.
I roll my shoulders back. As an upstanding citizen and an employee of this beautiful establishment, I decide the duty falls on me. So I swing around the wall, press my shoulder against the opening, and wait.
It takes less than two seconds for Imposter Kate to notice me, and she breaks out of her act with a scowl.
“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting the elderly with the scavenger hunt?” she says.