Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
David
To my surprise, so far, this trip isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. We’ve made it through getting to the airport and flying to Montana without killing each other, so I’d say that’s a win.
After we exit the plane, we head straight for the car rental counter, where I offer to put her on the rental as well, but she declines.
“It’s okay. I don’t need to drive.” She waves me off.
“Are you sure? What if you want to grab something real quick? It’s no big deal to add you.”
“Well, it’s kind of a big deal because I don’t have my license.”
“Seriously?” I laugh in surprise.
She playfully hits my arm, making me smile. I like that we’ve gotten to a more playful vibe between us.
“Don’t laugh. Do you own a car?” she asks.
“Well, no, but I still know how to drive one.”
She waves me off again, and I turn to the agent at the counter.
“Looks like it’s just me.”
I get the paperwork all situated, and we head to where the car is waiting for us.
“Hungry?” I ask once I have our bags in the trunk and am heading toward the driver’s door.
“Starving. Thanks again for that muffin.”
I nod my acknowledgment. “Of course. Glad it helped. What sounds good?”
“Take me to one of your favorite places. Is there some kind of food you can get here that you can’t get in New York?”
“You mean like Rocky Mountain oysters?” I say in a playful tone as we get in the car.
She reaches for her seatbelt, obviously confused on what I just said. “What is that? Do I even want to know?”
I laugh out loud, not able to hold it back. Rocky Mountain oysters were always a joke between my brothers and me. “Probably not. It’s the testicles of a bull or bison.”
Her eyes shoot up, and she turns to me so fast that her hair goes whipping across her glossed lips and stays there. “What?” she asks as she moves her hair, making a small part of me wish she hadn’t. “Do you really eat that?”
I start the car, then tilt my head back, turning her way. “No, I don’t. But people really do. They even say it’s a delicacy.”
She acts like she’s gagging, and I burst out laughing.
“How can that be a delicacy?”
“Some even think it’s an aphrodisiac.” I raise my eyebrows, flirting with her in a way, then instantly regret it.
Why did I just do that? This is a work trip, and this is Zoe, of all people.
I put the car in reverse and decide to end the conversation there, hoping she didn’t get weirded out by what I just did.
I drive us to a steakhouse, knowing they’ll have enough options for anything she’ll want as well as a bison burger for me. The car is quiet—too quiet—so I turn up the radio that’s already set to a country station.
“Country music okay with you?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.
“I don’t know much of it, but that’s fine.”
Her repeating the lyric from “High Road” during our fight after meeting with the client pops into my brain. “Then how did you know the line ‘I don’t need a ticket to your shit show’ that you threw at me the other day?”
I turn to her, genuinely curious, and watch as she flinches.
“I, um … I mean, I know a little. It’s just not something I listen to every day. And that song has the girl version, so I hear that more often than the original.”
I face the road and nod with what she said making sense.
It takes us about fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, and she’s typing away on her phone the entire time.
“That must be some group chat,” I tease.
She instantly places her phone in her lap, face down, like she’s embarrassed that I noticed. “Sorry. My friend is having a nervous breakdown, so we’re all texting back and forth.”
“Let me guess … it’s over a guy?”
Her breath catches, but she tries to laugh it off. “Isn’t it always?”
I chuckle, but don’t respond, not wanting to go there with her.
I pull into the parking lot and put the car in park once I’ve maneuvered my way into a spot. Before we exit the car, I want to make sure we’re clear on one thing so we don’t have any odd exchanges over the bill.
“Since I paid for the car rental, I’ll just get all of our meals so we can turn in one spreadsheet for the expense report. Sound good?”
“Yeah. That makes sense. Thank you for offering to take that on,” she responds, then exits the car.
Once we get to the front door, I open it, then step aside to let her go by.
“Thank you,” she shyly says, making me wonder where that feisty girl who used to fight me on anything and everything went.
The hostess leads us to a table and hands us each a menu. “Can I get you guys started with a drink?”
I wonder if I should have a drink since this is a work trip, but Zoe is quick to answer, “Yes, please. I’ll take a glass of red wine. Whatever you have open. I’m not picky.”
The hostess looks at me, so I figure, Why not?
“Do you guys have anything from Big Sky Brewing?”
“Sure do,” she replies with a smile.
“I’ll take their pilsner if you have it.”
“Sounds good. I’ll let your waitress know, and she’ll be right by.”
The hostess walks away, and Zoe asks me, “Have you been here before?”
I nod. “Yeah. I went to college in Missoula, so it wasn’t too far from here.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you’d graduated from the University of Montana before you moved to New York,” she responds, instantly making questions pop into my mind.
“I didn’t know you knew that.”
She blows me off. “Christina told me,” she replies, keeping her eyes down on her menu.
“What else did she tell you about me?” I joke, but before she can answer, we’re interrupted.
“David? Is that you?” I hear a familiar female voice ask.
I turn and see Leslie, my ex-girlfriend from when I was in college, wearing the same apron our waitress had on.
“Leslie?” I reply, standing to greet her. “How are you?” We hug, then step back and look at each other. “Man, it’s been what, five, six years?”
“Since you left me and moved to New York? Yeah, that sounds about right,” she teases, but I really can’t blame her for throwing that in my face since it’s the truth.
“I’m sor—”
“Don’t. I’m kidding.” She places her hand on my chest for a second too long for our current setting. “Life is good. I hope you’ve been good too. No bad feelings here.” She looks at Zoe, then back at me with her eyebrows lifted slightly in question.
“Oh, this is my coworker, Zoe Jones.” I hold out my hand toward her.
“Your coworker, huh?” She glances over my shoulder to where Zoe is still seated.
Zoe waves an awkward hello. “Yep, just his coworker. Here on business and nothing else.”
“Well, didn’t think anyone would ever come to Montana from New York for business, but here you are. So, how’s life?”
“Good. I work for a marketing agency. We have a client who’s doing beef tallow products.”
“Ha!” She laughs out loud. “That makes total sense then.”
“How about you? I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Yep. I have for a few years now. Using that degree I studied so hard for,” she says sarcastically.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I try to sound genuine.
When we were dating, she didn’t have any clue what she wanted to do for a living.
In fact, she kept changing majors, which just meant she kept adding on classes she needed to take to graduate.
It was one of the things that caused problems in our relationship.
I had a very direct path of what I wanted to do, and she was kind of floating in space.
It’s hard to be driven when you’re with someone who has no direction.
“It’s fine. I make good money here, better than some of my friends who work corporate jobs, so I like it. I heard you were engaged.” She glances at my hand, which is missing a wedding ring.
I hold it up to show her. “Nope. Didn’t work out.”
She steps up a little closer to me, suggestively saying, “Well, I still have the same number if you want to give me a call when you get back to your hotel.”
Zoe fails at trying to hide the chuckle that escapes her lips, and I instantly cringe inside.
“I’m not sure if I’ll have time. We meet with the client early tomorrow, then fly back out on Friday.”
“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”
She walks away with an extra sway to her hips that I try not to notice and sit as fast as I can.
Zoe leans forward to whisper to me, “Awkward …”
I close my eyes, allowing the embarrassment I’m sure is showing all over my flushed face to wash over me. “It’s a long story …”
“Well, you obviously left an impression with her.”
She smirks, and I internally cringe.
Thankfully, our waitress brings us our drinks, and I grab mine to take a sip, hoping we can change the subject, not wanting to talk about my past sex life with my female coworker, especially when we are staying in a hotel together—in separate rooms, of course.
Our waitress takes our order—me a bison burger and her the salmon—and leaves us alone. Completely alone. With nothing to occupy or distract us. All day, we’ve had other things to keep us busy. Now, it’s just us. Staring at each other without a clue of what to talk about.
“Bison burger, huh?” she asks, breaking the silence.
“Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“I can honestly say I’ve never even seen it on a menu.”
“Why do you think I ordered it? It’s something I only get here.”
She takes a sip of her wine, looking off in thought and probably trying to figure out what to talk about, just like I am.
“Do you miss home?” she asks, which catches me off guard.
I try not to think about missing home because, really, what’s the point? I don’t want to get to where I constantly think about it. I just push it out of my mind as much as possible.
“I mean, I love my job, and I love my life in New York. So, I guess I just leave it at that.”
“And what about your siblings?”
“How did you know I had siblings?”
She shrugs as she takes another sip of wine. “I guess I just figured.”
“Do you have siblings?”
She chokes on her wine and covers her mouth to cough, then shakes her head. “Actually, I don’t. Only child.”
“An only child just assumed I had siblings?” I raise my eyebrows, teasing her.
“Yes, and I bet I’m right, aren’t I?”
There’s that fiery girl who has been missing since we got in the car this morning.
“Yes, you’re right. I have six siblings actually.”
“I can’t believe your mom gave birth to seven kids.”
I laugh as I place my hands on the table and fold my fingers together. “You can count. Good.”
She narrows her eyes at me, shaking her head slightly. “Yes, I can count.”
I pick up my beer and take another drink, realizing just how much I’ve missed this side of her.
“Then your mom only gave birth once?” I tease.
“Ha-ha.”
Our waitress brings bread and butter to the table. I open the black cloth wrapped around the warm deliciousness and hand her one. “Please don’t say you’re one of those girls who doesn’t eat bread and butter.”
“Did you forget you gave me a muffin earlier?” She takes the bread from me and places it on her plate, then lifts her knife to get some butter. “I ate every crumb of that.”
“Oh yeah. Did you think I missed you picking up the crumbs that fell on your lap and sticking them in your mouth?”
“Just like I didn’t miss you licking the little bottle of whiskey.”
“Hey”—I hold my bottle up to her in cheers—“good to the last drop.”