Just Three Words (Soho Loft Romances) (31 page)

“Lots to do,” Sam called over her shoulder.

“Need coffee,” Mallory tossed out. “I’m gonna head to Starbucks. They love me over there. They yell my name like Norm on
Cheers
. Can I get anyone anything?”

“A reprieve from Brooklyn?” Hunter asked, kissing Brooklyn’s cheek as she rounded the table to her desk.

Mallory smiled sweetly. “Tall order, but I’ll ask around.”

Brooklyn sank her chin into her hand, alone at the table. “Defeat at the battle of Hunter’s Love Life. One for the history books.”

“You can’t win ’em all,” Mallory said as she slid the door to the loft closed on her way out.

The office fell into quiet as the three of them went back to work. Hunter checked her email and, after a few quick exchanges with their candy store client, glanced at her phone, disheartened that she still had no response to her texts to Kevin. She’d call her mom later in the afternoon and check up on things back home. Her recent visit had weighed on her mind a lot lately and had her heart heavy. She needed to make it a habit to get home more. Once a month.

Just then her phone tickled her hand in vibration as a message came in. Samantha.

Dinner tomorrow?

She grinned and typed back.
You asking me on a date?

I am. Will you, Hunter Blair, go out on a date with me tomorrow night? An official one.

Hunter took her time answering. But when she did, it was
I’m thinking about it.

Across the room, Samantha glanced at the readout on her phone and swiveled around, her mouth open in exaggerated outrage. Adorable.

“Yes,” Hunter mouthed and nodded, which prompted the smallest of smiles onto Sam’s face. Hunter turned back to her laptop in a state of happy anticipation. Yep, she was a goner.

*

Samantha checked her reflection in the mirror, turning to the side to give herself one final pass. She’d selected a yellow sundress for their night out and chose to go with her hair down, leaving it wavy enough to carry some body. Not too fancy, but at the same time, cute enough. At least, she hoped so.

As she applied a touch of that shimmery lip gloss, her stomach fluttered. How was it that she was actually nervous right now? This was Hunter she was talking about, who she’d known for years and who lived just across the living room. But it was the good kind of nervous, the excited kind that stemmed from looking forward to something.

When she made her way into the living room, she took note of the soft jazz that played from the speaker in the corner. She found Hunter there with her back turned, staring out the window. The sky was already dark and the lights from the city twinkled back at them. It was a dreamy visual: Hunter standing there in front of the New York City skyline.

Because she couldn’t resist, she came up behind Hunter, slipped her arms around her waist, and held on for a moment, enjoying the music and the scenery. Finally, she offered her a tiny squeeze. “Ready to go?”

Hunter turned, and presented her with a small wrapped box. “For you.”

“You got me a first-date gift?”

“Open it.”

And of course she did, only to find herself holding what appeared to be the box for a miniature jigsaw puzzle with a series of square roots on the cover.

Hunter leaned in and pointed at the box. “Apparently you match the numbers with their square roots.”

Samantha stared at the puzzle, floored. “You bought me a math gift?”

“Yes.”

“Most people would have gone with flowers.” Samantha shook her head in wonder. It was the most thoughtful gesture, a puzzle tailored to her. The gift had her feeling special, like some sort of schoolgirl on prom night. It was silly, but at the same time, wildly okay with her.

“Would you have rather had the flowers?”

“I would have rather had this any day of the week to flowers. You gave me square roots.”

“I did.”

And that was when she noticed Hunter’s look. As in, really noticed her. A sleeveless white shell accentuated with a long silver necklace that caught the light and slender black pants. Her hair was pulled up on the sides, but flowed down around her shoulders. She was soft and sleek all in one.

“You’re beautiful,” she said to Hunter. “And you’re my date.”

Hunter grinned. “And where are you taking me?”

“To dinner at STK. And then wherever you want.”

Hunter looked skyward in a picturesque display. “Oh, the possibilities.”

The restaurant was located in the Meatpacking District, and because of its trendy reputation, was already bustling when they arrived just in advance of their eight p.m. reservation. Once they were shown to their table, Samantha knew she had made the right choice in requesting rooftop seating. The view of the city from their table was breathtaking, as was the outdoor space decorated with strings of small light bulbs that glowed dimly around them.

“How’s the book?” Sam asked as the two glasses of wine they’d ordered were delivered to their table.

“You’re not going to believe this, but I’m actually into it. Who’d have thought?”

“It’s a classic for a reason, you know.”

“I should listen to you more often maybe,” Hunter said.

Sam held up a hand, pretending to look for her phone. “Wait. Can you say that again? I should probably get an audio recording or something.”

“It’s a self-destructing sentence by design, so no go.”

“You’re full of all sorts of hidden talents.”

Hunter sat back in her chair and took a sip from her wineglass. “You don’t even know how many yet. But there’s time for me to show you.” The blush was upon Sam instantly and the heat that comment inspired was not far behind. “This is a really good dress, by the way,” Hunter said. “Really good.”

Samantha glanced down at the yellow sundress. “It is?”

Hunter shook her head ever so slightly. “You have no idea.”

Dinner arrived, and it was quite possibly some of the best food in the solar system. Truffle mac and cheese, garlic chicken kebabs, and the most refreshing pear salad. When they’d finished their meal, they walked the perimeter of the rooftop, enjoying the perfect evening temperature and the slight breeze that tickled their shoulders and lifted their hair. And that was kind of how Samantha felt in that moment: lifted up. The moon shone brightly in its near fullness, casting a pale glow over the city beneath them. Sam basked in how romantic it all felt, as though the night had been designed especially for them.

“We need a photo,” she suggested.

Without missing a beat, Hunter produced her phone and framed them expertly with the lights of the restaurant accenting them beautifully. At the last second, Hunter kissed Sam’s cheek, and the resulting image was quite frankly, stunning. Staring down at it, Sam felt a chill move through her at just how perfect they looked together, how right it all felt.

“So where to now?” she asked, Hunter’s hand in hers. Samantha was all for letting Hunter choose, but she didn’t want the night to end.

Hunter turned her head and regarded Sam out of the corner of her eye. “Wanna walk?”

“I would love to walk with you.” It was Friday night, so each bar, restaurant, or club they passed was overflowing with patrons and music. It was a lively night on the streets of the Meatpacking District, and Hunter held firmly to Samantha’s hand as they walked. The solidity of it was nice.

They paused in front of a club with a crazy techno beat blaring from inside. “You could dance on top of a bar,” Hunter offered over the music. “That could be fun. You’d make a ton.”

Sam glanced up at her. “Later.”

They walked a bit more and paused in front of a bluesy-looking cocktail spot.

“Oh, a little dive bar. I love little dive bars. Wanna?” Hunter asked. The place looked like a mixture of a lot of things, which carried appeal.

“Sounds like something I can get behind.” Samantha studied the sign. “And hey, it’s open mic tonight. You know what that means?”

“Semi-depressing people are going to line up to feel like rock stars as we watch?”

Samantha swatted her arm. “Or we get to see the next Lady Gaga before she’s Gaga. This is New York, Ms. Blair.”

“You’re adorable when you call me that. Kiss me.” Hunter said, a smile taking over her whole face as she leaned in.

It was the easiest request in the world and Sam met her in the middle and fixed her mouth to Hunter’s in a sizzling exchange that left her warm all over. “Shall we?”

They slipped into a small table set back from the stage and listened as a singer-songwriter emoted about his castrating ex-girlfriend and her cat, clearly a cathartic experience for the guy, if unfortunate for the audience. The next girl was actually really good, very new age but with a Joplin edge mixed in.

Feeling uncharacteristically bold, Samantha snuck a hand onto Hunter’s leg under the table. “So are you going to serenade me next?” Sam said in her ear.

Hunter stared at her, eyes wide. “You realize my biggest fear in life is being onstage in any capacity, and that if I were to do that, I would probably combust on the spot.”

“So a no on the serenade? My little heart is breaking.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear you say that.”

Sam shrugged. “Can’t help it.”

“Are you serious right now? Because you know I have a weak spot when it comes to you.”

“So serious. Look.” She wasn’t at all, but pointed to her face anyway in the spirit of the fun little exchange they were having. But the fact that Hunter stood from the table and approached the gentleman just to the side of the stage had her floored. Whoa. Because wait a sec—there was no way Hunter would actually go through with this, and Sam had only been joking when she’d suggested it.

But a few moments later, when Hunter took the stage with a borrowed guitar, Sam found her heart in her throat with guilt, and terror on Hunter’s behalf.

“I’ve never done this in public before,” Hunter said into a microphone. “So I’m hoping you’ll indulge me.” The crowd at the bar offered an encouraging round of applause before Hunter continued. “There’s a girl out there tonight who once told me she thought she’d been born into the wrong era. So for her, I’m going to sing a little Frank Sinatra.”

Hunter turned to her guitar and played the first recognizable notes from “The Way You Look Tonight,” and Sam felt her insides melt. Her rendition of one of the most romantic songs in history was simplistically beautiful. Hunter had slowed it down a tad and given the song unique touches here and there, but it was breathtaking. She spent most of it with her eyes on the guitar, but the few times she did glance up, she held Samantha’s eyes as she sang. God, she was like the craziest summer storm. All wild and unpredictable, but also soothing and calm and tender. Samantha didn’t think she’d ever get used to all the facets. When Hunter came to the last line of the song, the place erupted into applause and whistles and shouts. She was a hit.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Sam said, standing and holding her arms open for Hunter, who came easily into them at their table.

“I’m the one who can’t believe I did that. I’m still shaking.”

Samantha took Hunter’s hands in hers and kissed them, holding them against her chest. “That was easily the coolest thing that anyone has ever done for me, and you were so good, Hunter. It was beautiful.”

Hunter had never experienced this kind of nerve-induced euphoria. But for the first time ever, she’d felt enough courage to push herself up on that stage and knew exactly who that motivation had come from…and she was wearing the most picturesque yellow sundress.

A couple of patrons on the way out of the bar stopped to pat Hunter on the back and to tell her they’d enjoyed the song.

Seriously?

Was this happening?

She was still reeling from the experience when they spilled out onto the sidewalk. She felt like running, or dancing, or better yet…She turned to Sam. “We need ice cream.”

“Ice cream is the perfect celebration of the magic that just happened back there! And I’m buying. It’s the least I can do for my song. What made you think of that one?”

“You did. You make me think of a lot of things. Inspire them, actually,” Hunter leaned in and stole a kiss.

Samantha shook her head, sobering a little. “Wow. You have a way of saying the most important things sometimes.”

“It’s all true.”

Sam entwined her fingers with Hunter’s in front of her. “No matter what happens to us over the next seventy years, I will always have tonight to think back on. Because it feels kind of perfect, standing under this lamppost with you.” And then she smiled that most beautiful Samantha smile, the one that always caused Hunter’s chest to tighten. “Tonight will always be ours.”

Hunter glanced up at the lamppost, then back at the girl in the killer dress. “This is an important lamppost.”

Samantha laughed. “The
most
important.”

“I’ve never had a favorite lamppost before. I feel so grown up.”

“You are.” Samantha tugged Hunter’s arm. “C’mon. Places to walk. Things to eat.”

After obtaining their ice cream—toffee nut for Hunter and chocolate and peanut butter for Sam—they took the long way home, snagging an extra block here or there as they talked about anything and everything, not ready for it to be over just yet.

“So you actually hated high school,” Hunter stated, struggling to understand. “You seem like the type who would have relished every moment of it. You’re so spirited. Football games seem destined to be right up your alley.”

“They would have been, but I was so removed from the social scene. So in a sense, I get why maybe your brother is going through some stuff. High school is a difficult time. It’s hard to find your place.”

Hunter nodded. “I sent him a couple of texts when I got home from Ohio. He only answered one of them and used as few letters as possible.”

“Well, that’s something. And don’t stop. Keep reaching out to him even if he doesn’t reach back.”

It made sense, and she would take Sam’s advice. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a part of me that was, I don’t know, happy that my dad showed interest in my life. And I’m so pissed off at myself for feeling that way. Because how weak is that?”