Just Three Words (Soho Loft Romances) (22 page)

Hunter, who had the top of her hair pulled back in a clip today, studied her nonchalantly. “A dinner whore? Congratulations. I don’t know many of those.”

“You think I’m kidding. I’m not. The guy literally handed me a hundred bucks on the street and then took off.” She held up the hundred as evidence.

“Whoa. Well, you are an excellent dinner companion.”

Sam hung up her cardigan on the coat rack. “Right? Maybe I should add it to my résumé.”

Hunter smiled. “Please list it as ‘Dinner Whore.’ I’m in favor of the term. It’s growing on me, moment to moment.”

Sam batted Hunter’s feet out of the way and sat at the end of the couch. “You’re on. DW for short.” And then she caught a detail she’d missed when she first arrived.

Hunter eyed her. “What?”

“There’s an actual book in your lap. Oh my word. You’re all cozy and reading.”

Hunter glanced down at the novel and shrugged. “It happens on occasion. I thought I’d see what the fuss is about. And then there’s the fact that I do whatever I can to hear you say ‘oh my word.’ Say it again.”

Samantha ignored the jab and lifted the spine of the book as she dipped her head. “
Pride and Prejudice
. One of my all-time favorites.”

“I figured as much from the broken-in spine. I like this Elizabeth. She has a subtle humor about her. A cool chick. She makes jokes when she’s nervous. You do that, too, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, in a perfect world, I’d rather be like you. Composed and unaffected in those sort of moments.”

“No way. That would be boring. The world needs a blushing Samantha Ennis who diverts with humor.”

She smiled at Hunter. “I like that you’re reading it. It will be fun to see the book through someone else’s eyes. Yours especially. I happen to value your thoughts a great deal.”

“That sounds like pressure. I hope I don’t disappoint you.” Hunter met her gaze and held on. “I’m sorry your night was cut short. I know you were hoping Howard J. would be the bow-tie-wearing man of your dreams.”

“Le sigh. I was hoping, but I’ll live,” Sam said. “And never look at NASCAR the same way again, consequently. Or steak, for that matter.”

“Care to explain?”

“I’m not sure I could find the words. It’s safe to say that Howard and I are not a match. And it’s now occurring to me that finding my match, if he or she is even out there, is a more difficult task than I had originally hoped. Is it horrible that, after everything, I still want that for myself? Someday, down the road, I want the romance novel.”

Hunter studied her, the playful smile of earlier replaced with a sincere understanding. “And you deserve it.”

Samantha adjusted her spot on the couch and brought her knees up to her chest. “Several years back, I made this list of everything I wanted in the perfect person for me. Kind, funny, successful, good-looking, wants to have kids, gets my quirks, a killer chef, well-read…I mean, the list went on and on.” She covered her face with her hand as embarrassment struck. “I can’t believe I just told you that. Miss Anti-Relationship. You must think I’m so naïve and pathetic.”

“I don’t think that. I’m happy you told me about your list. There’s nothing wrong with having one.”

Samantha dropped her gaze to the floor and examined the swirling patterns where the rug met the cement. “I think I’d settle for kind at this point. Funny couldn’t hurt. But the full package is unrealistic. That list needs shortening, and I think it’s time I acknowledge that.” Hunter stared at her, and it was one of those rare moments where Sam didn’t know what she was thinking. It was a faraway look that Hunter only got once in a while. “Hunter. You in there?”

Hunter took a breath and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. Right here.”

She placed her hand on top of Hunter’s and squeezed. “Thanks. You’ve been a great friend to me through all of this. Libby, Howard…us.” She left it there, knowing that Hunter would fill in the gap, as saying “the night I ripped your clothes off” felt somehow outside the mood.

Hunter straightened. “You’re one of the most important people on the planet to me, you know that?”

The words prompted a warmth to move through Samantha and brought a smile to her face. “I do. But it’s nice to hear it. I can safely say the same right back to you.”

There was a silence between them now as the comments hovered and settled, but not the uncomfortable kind. That was the thing: As different as they were, things were always easy between them. Samantha cherished that.

Finally, Hunter closed her book and turned to Sam. “I don’t know if you’re home for the night or not, but Mallory and I were planning a jaunt to Showplace in an hour. Brooklyn and Jess might join us later. It could cheer you up from your crash-and-burn date.”

“A jaunt, huh?” she said, swatting Hunter’s knee. “You’re all Jane Austen over there. I love it.”

“I may be a club kid, but I’m capable of high culture,” Hunter said, looking adorably proud of herself.

Samantha had to smile, despite the surge of something powerful that pulsed through her in response to the display. Friend or not, Hunter had a way of doing that to her, and it would probably take some getting used to. Surely, any minute, her body would stop its thrumming. “It seems you are.”

But it was only natural to see Hunter in a new light now, given recent events. Probably the perfect cure for it all was a night out with her friends. A little fun and distraction now that her social calendar was unexpectedly free. Samantha stood. “I should probably go stare at my wardrobe in confusion before pulling something off the hanger randomly and putting it on.”

“You come up with the best plans.”

“Yeah, well, steak with Howard and Showplace on a Friday night seem to call for different costumes.”

“
Grey Gardens
shout-out.”

Samantha turned back. “Whoa. How did you know that?”

Hunter shook her head and returned to her book. “I know a lot more than you give me credit for. You consistently underestimate me, Samantha Ennis. And I have lots more to surprise you with. Buckle up.”

Sam headed off to her room, all the while turning that last sentence over in her head, because she was beginning to think Hunter was right.

She did underestimate her.

They’d known each other forever, yet there seemed to be a lot more to Hunter than she’d ever realized, and for whatever reason, that knowledge zapped her with a surge of extra energy, an excitement, that carried her right into her bedroom, until a strange sight on the edge of her bed pulled her focus. She paused, studying the neat pile of envelopes. “Hunter?” she called out to the living room.

“Yep?”

“The mail is on the end of my bed.”

“I know,” Hunter called back. “It looks good there. It wanted to branch out.”

Sam nodded in amusement. She understood the message and mentally accepted the challenge.

*

Hunter was ready for a throwaway kind of night. One of those times that blended with a hundred other times just like it. And the fact that Showplace was wall-to-wall people when she and Sam arrived was awesome for her plan. “The more the merrier” had always been Hunter’s go-to philosophy. Well, that, and a no-regrets kind of mantra. She’d stayed away from the party scene long enough, but her head was a mess, and she needed to remedy that.

Showplace was located just down the block from the loft. The casual bar turned nightclub on the weekends had easily developed over time into the foursome’s favorite hangout. Monday through Thursday, it was the perfect place to gather and kick back over drinks and some good conversation. But once Friday night hit, a DJ set up shop and the space transformed. Hunter loved the dichotomy. While the place was out of the way enough that tourists weren’t an issue, word of the bar’s killer vibe had trickled out, and the crowds were slowly picking up.

While not exactly a gay bar by definition, it was safe to say that Showplace fell more and more that direction as time went on. The high ceilings of the converted warehouse gave the room a spacious feel, even though the place wasn’t that large. The minimalistic décor coupled with the purple and blue light bulbs that hung from the rafters provided an industrial vibe reminiscent of the neighborhood that Hunter found rather chill. The front portion of the room was comprised of a dozen or so tall bistro tables with leather-backed chairs, all surrounding a central metallic bar.

She and Sam located Mallory easily enough at their standard table to the left of the bar, set back from the dance floor. Mallory sipped a martini, which she raised to them as they sat. “I got started early. That kind of week.”

Samantha grimaced. “You really have been pulling the crazy hours. Serenity?”

Mallory nodded. “Those women are high maintenance. And they have a lot of opinions.”

“About water?” Sam asked.

Mallory’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Been there. What else?”

“Twelve potential new client meetings since Wednesday. And I took Brooklyn with me on five. She really knows how to pull them in with her description of her ideas. She just lights up.”

“She’s great at making her excitement contagious,” Hunter added. “It’s the Brooklyn factor. Hard to resist.” She pointed at Samantha. “Cucumber martini?”

Sam nodded and smiled. “Yes, please.”

Hunter maneuvered her way to the bar, but the journey there was delayed by quite a few necessary hellos to various friends and acquaintances.

“Hunter’s here,” a voice called.

She nodded hello.

“Hey, Hunter!” From another side of the room.

She waved.

“Where have you been?” a random girl in front of her asked. “I’ve missed you.”

“Just busy. You know how things can get.”

It seemed as soon as she finished one exchange, there was someone else waiting to steal a kiss on the cheek or make her promise to dance with them later. She pressed forward just as another hand landed on her back.

“Hunter Blair, also known as missing in action?”

Stephanie. They’d hooked up once last year. It might have been twice. She was a fun girl. Short-cropped hair that she kept bleached blond and a few well-placed piercings—some less visible than others, if she remembered correctly.

Hunter grinned. “Not MIA. I’ve been around. You just haven’t been looking hard enough. Good to see you, though. I dig the jacket.” It was something to say. She tended to compliment women whenever she could, an automatic pilot thing. She enjoyed making other people feel good.

“Can I just say,” Stephanie said, moving her hands from Hunter’s elbows up her shoulders, “that I have never seen you look more delectable.”

“Delectable is quite a word, Steph.”

“I know lots of big words, sweetie. I can say them for you later if you’d like.”

“Wow. Now that’s an offer. Let’s just see how the night plays out. You never know.” She continued on her path to the bar. She had no intention of starting anything with Stephanie, and she wondered why she’d engaged in the flirtatious exchange. Her conversation with Samantha a few days prior played back in her head.
Because you never want to hurt anyone’s feelings. You should be more up front if you’re not interested.
It seemed that advice wasn’t exactly easy to implement.

She waited patiently at the bar, subtly moving her head in time to the music, until Hope, the bartender, caught her eye and smiled. Speaking of a lot of attention from girls, Hope always had her hands full with the groupies that flocked to Showplace just to sit at the bar and stare awestruck at her all night. She’d started work at Showplace about six months prior and was instantly the talk of the lesbian regulars. With medium-length blond hair (generally pulled back when she was working), soft brown eyes, and an easy smile, Hope garnered lots of attention. But she kept her head down, made the drinks, and collected her tips, preferring to stick to her job rather than chatting up girls. She and Hunter had struck up a friendship over the past few months and found that they had quite a few things in common.

“Hey,” Hope said, resting her forearms on the bar in front of Hunter. “How’s your night?”

“Just getting started,” Hunter said, projecting her voice above the music. “How’s yours?”

Hope glanced around. “It started picking up about eight and hasn’t slowed down for a second. I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight. Won’t make it home until probably three.”

“But you’ve landed at least ten phone numbers already, if I had to guess.”

Hope grinned, dropped a cherry on top of a beverage, and handed it across the bar to a waiting woman. “You know I don’t pay attention to that kind of thing. I’m working. Six fifty,” she said to the girl before turning her attention back to Hunter. “Hey, did you check out that band in the East Village? I wanted to hear what you thought before I ventured out.”

“No. I skipped it. But if you decide to catch a set sometime, let me know. I’ll tag along.”

“You’re on. Now what can I get for you?”

“I need a cucumber martini and a bourbon and Coke.”

“Coming up.” When Hope returned with a tray with three drinks instead of two, Hunter raised a questioning eyebrow. Hope shrugged. “Mallory’s drink looks a little low.”

Hunter stared at Hope, enjoying this. “But you don’t pay attention to that kind of thing. You’re working.”

“Spotting a customer in need of a drink is part of that job.” She winked at Hunter. “And I’m excellent at my job.”

It wasn’t the first time that Hope had sent Mallory a drink. And it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Well, thanks.” She slid Hope some cash for hers and Sam’s cocktails and made her way back to the table.

“A refresher for you,” she said to Mallory, placing the drink in front of her. “On the house. You’re officially a stud, by the way. Mad props.”

“Oh no. This is from the bartender, isn’t it?” Mallory eyed the drink critically. “I don’t know how I feel about stud status.”

Hunter stared at her. “Don’t overthink it. Hard for you, I know, but you’ll manage. Enjoy your drink and wave to Hope. It’s what you do.” She shifted her focus. “And a cucumber martini for Sam.” She placed the glass in front of Samantha.

“Thank you.” Samantha smiled widely in appreciation and Hunter couldn’t seem to look away. She radiated tonight. She’d complained about her inability to put an outfit together, but there was something so simplistic about her look, a casual solid green sundress with a silver necklace that brought out her eyes and easily made her the most attractive woman in the room. Her hair was down and she must not have blow-dried it that day, as it fell in subtle waves that clung just past her shoulders, shiny and soft like some kind of shampoo commercial. Hunter remembered the way it had cascaded softly through her fingers when they’d kissed in the entryway of Samantha’s room. How sweet it had smelled when she buried her face in it in Sam’s bed. A tingle moved through her at the very vivid sensation.