Eighteen
Bellamy
Today is turning out to be a total wash thanks to Mr. Longwood and his ever changing mind. He was willing to sell his property earlier this morning but can’t seem to give me a solid answer on how much he wants to list his land for. He keeps going on and on about having multiple assessments done, perk tests, and thinks he might want to subdivide, which is well within his rights, but I can’t help thinking that someone is chirping in his ear right now. Of course, I’m the bad guy when I tell him he’ll need to put a buffer between a residential lot and the business lot, which angers him. After an hour of back and forth, I finally hand him over to Owen and suggest he finish the deal because I get the sense that Mr. Longwood doesn’t like taking advice from a woman. It’s fine, I’m used to the old boy’s club mentality this town has. Add all this to the fact that earlier, Mr. Hawk Sinclair, the stupidly sexy baseball player who is hell bent on making me fall for his wily charms, stood out front of my office and chatted with Annie Larsen, the woman who accused me of having an affair with her husband. Ugh!
I know I’m reading into everything. The way he talks and looks at me . . . I’m certain that’s his personality, and the only reason he came in this morning is to ask about the land and to remind me that he invited himself over to my house for dinner. I should’ve told him tonight wouldn’t work, but nope, I volunteered to text him my address because he has my mind swirling in a million different directions. When he’s around me, I need to figure out how to keep my wits about myself and not get involved emotionally with him.
As reluctant as I am to text Hawk, I do it. I don’t want to come off as someone who doesn’t keep their word. Although, I do type out a few sentences explaining why tonight or any night hereafter won’t work for me, only to erase everything and not only give him my address but provide directions as well. Then I finally do the right thing and toss my phone in my bag because looking at the screen, waiting to see if he’s responding or is the type to have his read receipts on is a form of desperate I don’t want to be right now. I decide I desperately need to walk away and get some coffee so I head over to our kitchen area, running into Karter on my way.
“You knew he was coming in to see you today, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Lies,” she says
, laughing and bumping her shoulder with mine. “He’s a cutie. Always has been.”
“It’s funny that I don’t really remember him.”
“That’s because you’re so much older than he is. Hopefully he likes older women.”
“Oh, my God, will you stop?!” I push her gently, in a teasing way. “Five years isn’t anything these days.”
She laughs. “You’re right. These days, men Hawk’s age date teens and older men date women our age. I don’t get it . . . or maybe I do.”
“Are you and Zach having problems?”
Karter looks at me in complete shock and surprise. “What? No.” She waves me off, but something doesn’t feel right. I’m about to prod, to push for a little more but the office phone rings and she goes to answer it while I make a fresh pot of coffee.
“It’s for you,” she says when she comes back into the room. “Adrienne Hubbard.”
Shit. I forgot to call her back yesterday.
“When this is done, let me know?” I point toward the coffee maker.
“I’ll bring you a cup because we are not done talking about Mr. Hottie.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head at her as I pass by. It’s times like now when I wish I had a designated office so I could close the door and have this conversation in private. I sit down and take a deep breath before picking up the phone.
“Hi, Adrienne, sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday. I’m a little surprised you’re calling me at work. What’s up?”
“Geez, ramble much?”
Only when I’m nervous. “I’ve been a terrible friend, lately. I’m sorry. How are you? How’s Robbie?”
“We’re good, missing Montana. Arizona is dry, brown and hot. I miss the snow.”
“Ha, you say that now, but it’s almost May and we still have mounds of it trying to melt.”
“Better than watching the exterminator spray your house for scorpions.”
“Yep, you win. Are you and Robbie looking to move back? Is that why you called me at work?”
“I wish, but no. I called you at work because I was hoping you wouldn’t be in and I wouldn’t have to have this conversation with you.”
Color me confused. “Okay . . . ”
She sighs heavily. “We’ve always been close, at least we were until we moved away, but you’re still my best friend and it pains me to ask you this because it’s so out of character—”