On the way back to his ESU truck, Hayden stopped him with a hand on his arm. His skin burned beneath her touch. Damn, why did she have to look so pretty? “Hey. Thank you. For whatever that was.”
“That was all you, duchess.” His damn radio crackled on his shoulder. He wanted to throw it into the Hudson just so he could stand there with her a minute longer. It figured that he’d gone the entire morning without one incident on his patrol shift, only to be called away now. “I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly.
She nodded and stepped back. As he pulled into traffic, heading toward an incident involving a boat collision that might require underwater search and rescue, he watched in the rearview mirror as the kids on the bus greeted her with a group hug. Just how many layers were there to Hayden Winstead? God, he hoped he hadn’t lost his chance to find out.
Chapter Nine
Hayden squinted to make out the colorful dartboard, biting her lip in the hopes it would make the thing clearer. When the single board suddenly had a twin, she made a sound of frustration, waving the dart in her friend Ruby’s general direction.
“What trickery is this? Are you a dart hustler, too?”
“No,” Ruby said, then threw back a shot of tequila. “You’re terrible all on your own.”
“I make up for it in spirit.”
“Your spirit is causing property damage.” Ruby gestured to the scatter of darts lodged in the wall around the board.
Hayden fell into her chair with a snort, knocking over an empty glass in the process. Troy, Ruby’s boyfriend, worked with Daniel and Brent on the force, which allowed the girls to meet Ruby over beers one night in Quincy’s. They’d absorbed the reformed pool hustler into their twosome without missing a beat. Since Daniel and Troy were occupied for the night watching the Mets game with Brent, she’d kidnapped Story to meet up with Ruby at one of her old pool haunts, a gigantic warehouse-style bar complete with a handful of pool tables and a dance floor. Die-hard regulars and college students mixed together to create an eclectic atmosphere. Pool balls cracked, glasses clinked, and laughter punctuated the air. When they’d arrived, classic rock was blaring from the speakers, but had since been replaced by nineties pop anthems, played for the sake of irony.
She’d needed this. Needed not to think. A night to let everything with Brent, with her family, with Stuart, float away in a bathtub of tequila.
Thankfully, she had friends who didn’t pester her with questions about her odd behavior or uncharacteristic decision to party like a rock star on a Thursday night. Good thing, since she didn’t feel quite ready to share the Stuart Conundrum, as she’d been referring to it in her head. Her friends would yell, scream, and curse like sailors on her behalf, outraged over the idea of Hayden’s being forced to get married against her will. While some support might make her feel better in the moment, it wouldn’t solve the problem. Nothing would.
“Where is Story?”
Ruby pointed beyond Hayden’s shoulder. She turned and saw her best friend soft-shoeing with an older gentleman, laughing like a lunatic. Hayden turned back to Ruby with a questioning look. Ruby shrugged. “He’s teaching her how to tap dance.”
“Oh.” She drained another shot. “Fair enough.”
Ruby pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the screen. “Uh-oh. I’m getting the Troy Bennett Booty Call.”
Story fell into a chair next to Hayden. “Daniel just texted me to come over. Are we wrapping up this little shindig any time soon?”
Hayden did a double take. “Did you two just get simultaneous booty calls?”
“The Mets must have won tonight.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Story agreed into her drink. “You want to share a cab?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Hayden tilted on her chair. “That’s it? Girl’s night out is finished just cause some baseball team used a thing…to hit a ball…out of the thing.” She shook her head. “You know what I’m trying to say.”
“No idea.”
“I’m lost.”
“Oh, well, let me clear it up for you.” She paused for drama. “You guys are dick-whipped.”
Story gasped. “Not cool, Hay.”
“If anything, that description just made this booty call even more appealing,” Ruby said.
“Accusations aside,” Story continued as if Ruby hadn’t spoken. “I have to teach a class of Manhattan’s finest kindergartners tomorrow morning. Nothing gets by these kids. They’re just waiting for me to slip up.” She reached for Hayden’s drink. “They’re like miniature therapists, silently taking notes. Diagnosing me behind their juice boxes.”
“Call in sick.” Hayden took a breath. “You guys, I need this.”
Her friends exchanged a curious glance. It would be too easy to spill everything out onto the table when they were too drunk to remember the details tomorrow morning. But it wouldn’t make her feel better and it would obligate them to stay out drinking when they’d rather be home with their boyfriends.
“What’s going on?” Story turned in her seat. “I thought something felt off.”
“It’s nothing,” she hastened to say. “It’s just been a crazy week. First, my mother tasked me with organizing another charity ball, then I got a leaky hose on the West Side Highway—”
“Huh?” Both girls asked at the same time. Hayden quickly gave them a rundown of her West Side nightmare and Brent’s subsequent roadside assistance. She left out his innuendo-laced directions and blatant ass-gazing. And the fact that she’d spent every moment since imagining a very different outcome. One not involving thirty children. One where he shows up with his toolbox shirtless and well…gives her a tune-up in the back of his ESU truck. The temperature in Hildebrand’s suddenly felt sweltering.
There he went again. Popping into her head and kick-starting her libido when he should be the furthest thing from her mind. If she married Stuart, he probably wouldn’t take very kindly to her fantasizing about Brent. A man who’d threatened him in his own kitchen.
Marrying Stuart would mean less time with Story and Ruby and the guys. No more Saturday nights bantering over cheap beers for her. Not when she’d be expected to appear on Stuart’s arm at every high-society function, introducing him as her successful new husband.
Her heart clenched at the realization.
“Yikes. I hope you’re planning on switching bus companies for next summer.”
Hayden picked up a discarded lime and plunked it into an empty shot glass. “Actually…no. I’m, uh, going to hire five more buses. I want to expand the program.” She realized her hands were fidgeting so she folded them in her lap. On the ride from Manhattan to the farm, she’d been struck by inspiration, spending the two-hour ride outlining plans to present to the Clean Air committee. The charity would need an influx of funds, but she’d never felt more confident that she could pull it off. No matter what happened with her father’s company, with the charity’s popularity and reputation, she could find other donors. When she’d walked onto the bus after repairing the engine, she’d felt amazing. Like she could accomplish anything. Fix an engine. Build an even more successful charity. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Brent had played a role, encouraging her without realizing it.
Story squeezed her hand. “Hayden, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you say anything?”
She brushed off the question. “It’s still in the early planning phase.”
“Well, with you in charge, five buses is only a start,” Ruby said. “Nice job.”
Not knowing how to handle the compliment, Hayden only smiled in response. Lately, she’d started wondering if people saw more in her than she did herself. While she didn’t want to let herself hope they were right, the decision to expand the program so close to her heart gave her a sense of purpose. It felt good. Once again, she thought back to helping Brent repair the bus, as if she could pinpoint the exact moment her self-confidence had been given a much-needed boost. Even so, she couldn’t help feeling a flash of bitterness over the timing. Just a
s she was coming into her own, her independence could suffer a major setback if she married Stuart. Not to mention, her rocky relationship with Brent…
Brent again. Why wouldn’t he go away?
As if synchronized, both Story and Ruby’s phones buzzed on the table. To her friends’ credit, neither one of them paid their devices the slightest bit of attention. Hayden took pity on them, however, even as her heart swelled that they would stay out all night if she needed to talk. She hiked her purse over her shoulder and stood.
“Come on, guys. We can’t have you late for Troy Bennett and Daniel Chase booty calls. It would be sacrilege.”
“Are you sure?” Story gained her feet, wobbling noticeably, telling Hayden she would need to take her friend directly to Daniel’s door. Knowing Brent would be there, too, she did her best to temper the warring dread and excitement in her belly.
“Ruby, you prop her up while I call a cab.”
“Go teamwork.”
…