Page 116 of Hard Hitter
“Why?” Georgia asked, her eyes flashing with curiosity.
Lauren leaned back in Becca’s desk chair and smirked up at both of them. “Really? You haven’t figured it out?”
Slowly, Georgia shook her head.
“Nate gets crazy when anyone flirts.With Becca.” Lauren snorted. “Wake up, ladies.” She slammed the pay stubs folder shut. “Nate has it bad for little Miss Perky. I’ve been watching that little charade for years now. It never gets old. I just hope Rebecca recovers quickly, because I cannotwaitto get out of this building.”
Georgia’s gaze collided with Ari’s. A pair of startled eyes asked a question.Did she really just say that?
My god, I think she did, Ari tried to communicate.
Georgia’s mouth opened and then shut. Then it opened again. “Lauren?Whydo you hate hockey so much?”
Lauren’s sneer deepened. “Youreallyaren’t up on your gossip, are you?” She gave both of them a look of irritation. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you both at the game tonight, unfortunately.”
Ari and Georgia walked outside in silence, heading toward Water Street.
“What just happened there?” Georgia asked eventually.
“I don’t know,” Ari said slowly. “Maybe she’s crazy.”
They turned the corner, crossing the cobblestone street where Becca lived across the street from Georgia’s new digs. “Let’s order an early dinner at Becca’s,” Georgia suggested. “That way we can make sure she eats.”
“All right.”
But just as the words left her mouth, a black stretch limousine glided past them. It slid to a stop about a half a block up, in front of Becca’s little building. The driver got out ofthe car and walked around to the passenger’s side. He opened the door.
Nate Kattenberger got out, carrying a flower arrangement the size of a compact car. In his other hand, he carried a giant shopping bag from Dean and DeLuca, a gourmet food shop in Manhattan. The limo driver stepped up to the buzzer panel of Becca’s apartment building and pushed a button.
Georgia and Ari halted in their tracks.
“Huh,” said Georgia.
“Um...” said Ari.
“Early dinner elsewhere?” Georgia suggested.
“Good plan. My place?”
“Yeah!”
The two of them turned around and headed back in the other direction.
THREE MONTHS LATER
Patrick O’Doul had never been very interested in weddings.
College Boy’s wedding reception was the good kind, though. It was outdoors, for one thing. And casual. O’Doul was wearing a suit, not a tux, thank god.
He was drinking a summery cocktail, watching lit up sailboats pass under a pink-streaked sky over the Long Island Sound. Beside him, Ari and Rebecca were having a conversation with Leo Trevi’s college pal, a sweet young woman named Corey Callihan. They were discussing adaptive yoga, as Corey had a couple of physical issues which prevented her from doing some of the poses.
“Pilates works better for me, honestly,” Corey said. “Since a lot of it takes place seated. I can’t fall when I’m on my backside.”
“I’ve managed it,” Ari said, and the two women laughed.
It was a struggle not to stare at Ari all day and night in her sleek, strapless bridesmaid dress. The way the satin skimmed across her chest made him want to run a finger across her smooth skin.
After just a couple more hours, he could.
