Chapter Three
KARINA
My whole body is still tingling when I walk into the Hearts United office.
The headquarters is really just a rented suite in a strip mall between a nail salon and a tax preparer, but Ty's done his best to make it look professional.
It has a few motivational posters on the walls and some desks he found on Facebook Marketplace.
The droopy fern I keep forgetting to water looks accusingly at me from the corner.
Ty looks up from his laptop when I come in. He's in his usual uniform of khakis and a blue button-down, his sandy hair neatly combed.
“How'd it go?” he asks.
“Good but also weird news.” I drop into the chair across from his desk. “The Ridge Renegades are in. Their president is going to personally oversee their involvement.”
“That's fantastic.” Ty leans back in his chair, smiling. “Great work, Karina. I knew you could do it.”
The praise warms me. Ty believes in me.
“There's one thing,” I add. “He wants to be pretty hands-on. Meeting with me tomorrow to discuss logistics, that kind of thing.”
Ty's smile stays in place, but something flickers in his eyes. “Hands-on how?”
“I think he just wants to make sure the event runs smoothly. His club has a reputation to protect.”
“Right, right. Of course.” Ty taps his pen against the desk.
“Just... let's keep the operational stuff between us, okay?
Donor information, financials, that's all confidential.
I don't want volunteers, even well-meaning ones, getting into the weeds of how the nonprofit runs. It can get complicated, and people ask questions that slow everything down.”
“Sure,” I say. “He seems more interested in the event itself anyway.”
“Perfect. You handle the event, I'll handle the backend.” His easy smile returns. “We're a good team, Karina.”
It’s after five, so I grab my bag and head out. The second I'm in my car, I text Tania.
Me: I have so much to tell you
Tania: SPILL
Me: I accidentally pitched to a room full of bikers.
Tania: WHAT
Me: And then the president of the motorcycle club asked me to demonstrate a hug on him.
Tania: WHAT
Me: And now he wants to have dinner tomorrow to "discuss the event."
Tania: Are you telling me you hugged a MC president and now he’s taking you to dinner?
Me: It's not like that. It's a business meeting.
Tania: At what time?
Me: 7pm.
Tania: That's a date.
Me: It's not a date.
Tania: Is he picking you up?
Me: ...yes.
Tania: ON HIS MOTORCYCLE?
Me: I don't know! Stop shouting. Maybe?
Tania: IT'S A DATE. What are you wearing? Send pics of options! I need to be heavily involved in this decision.
I'm still smiling when I get home. My apartment is small but cozy, filled with secondhand furniture I've draped in soft throws and fairy lights. Books are stacked on every surface because my Tbr pile achieved sentience months ago, and I've simply accepted it as a roommate.
The click of toenails on hardwood announces Dolly's arrival. She rounds the corner from the bedroom, her three legs moving in that distinctive gait, and fixes me with an unimpressed stare.
“Don't look at me like that,” I tell her. “I had a very eventful day. There’s food in your dish.”
Dolly is a twelve-pound terrier mix with wiry gray fur, one ear that stands up and one that flops down, and the fearless attitude of a dog three times her size.
The shelter said she lost her front leg to a car accident before she was found as a stray.
They also said she was ‘spirited’, which I've learned is rescue-speak for ‘complete and utter diva.’
After I’ve taken her out for a walk and we’re back home, she follows me to the bedroom and watches as I throw open my closet.
“It's not a date,” I tell her. “It's a business dinner.”
Dolly snorts. I hold up a black dress. Professional and safe; it’s the kind of thing Maria would wear to a work function.
Dolly yawns.
“You're right. Boring.”
I dig deeper and pull out my favorite pink jeans, the high-waisted ones that make my butt look great, and pair them with a soft cream sweater that keeps slipping off one shoulder. Cute but not trying too hard. I set them on the chair and take a shower, then put on my pajamas.
My phone rings. Glancing at the screen, my stomach sinks.
Mom.
I could let it go to voicemail. I could claim bad reception. Instead, I answer, because I'm a glutton for punishment.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Karina! I'm so glad I caught you. I just got off the phone with Maria. Did she tell you about her promotion? Chief of Department. Can you believe it? We're so proud.”
“That's amazing.” Maria works hard. She deserves it. “Tell her congrats from me.”
“I will. So how's your little charity thing going?”
Your little charity thing. Not your job or your career. Your little charity thing, like it's a hobby. Like I'm playing at being a grown-up.
“It's going well. I secured a big partnership today, actually. A local MC is going to help with the Valentine's event.”
“MC?”
“Motorcycle club.”
A pause. “Bikers? Karina, is that safe? I don't want you getting mixed up with dangerous people. You know how you can be.”
“Be?”
“You trust too easily, sweetheart. You always have. Remember that roommate situation in college? And that awful boyfriend who borrowed money?”
My face burns. “That was years ago.”
“I just worry. Your sister is so good at reading people, but you've always been more... open. It's a lovely quality, but it makes you vulnerable.”
Dolly has climbed onto the bed and is staring at me with something that looks almost like sympathy.
“I should go, Mom. I have to get ready for a meeting.”
“Of course, of course. Love you, sweetheart. Be careful.”
I hang up and sit on the edge of the bed. The jeans are still lying on the chair, but now they look foolish. A little girl playing dress-up. What am I doing? Clay is intense and powerful. He probably has gorgeous women throwing themselves at him constantly.
Dolly nudges my hand with her cold nose.
“You're right,” I say. “That was a spiral.”
She huffs in agreement.
Screw it. If I'm going to make a fool of myself tomorrow, I'm going to do it looking like me.