Page 29 of Hate You Later
“I know,” she replies, forming the words without sound.
Xander sighs. “Look, we’re not accomplishing anything with this speculation. It’s almost five. Are you guys doing anything tonight?” He checks his phone. “Let me call Mac and Angie. I’m going to head home for a quick shower, but maybe we can meet back at the diner and get some more of the details for the masquerade hammered out over dinner. We can nail down the catering and call some of the vendors to see if they want to participate in the silent auction.”
“I’m in. We can brainstorm potential locations too,” Kenna suggests.
“Definitely. And come up with a plan about how we’re sharing this shakedown on social media?” I say, looking at Xander.
“OMG. So now you’re cool asking for my help?” Xander looks shocked.
“We need to leverage every advantage. I’m not going to just roll over and let Ragnar ruin everything!” I say. “We have to update the website too—ASAP. Do you know how to do that?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am!” Xander nods happily.
I’m suddenly feeling so much more empowered. I’m going to do what I do best. I’m going to come out swinging.
“By the way, dinner is on me tonight,” I announce.
Smiling victoriously, I reach into the cash drawer and pull out the stack of hundred-dollar bills, fanning myself dramatically.
Big mistake.
As I wave the money around, I catch the briefest lingering whiff of Ragnar. Not Ragnar the enemy, who I’m presently poised to vanquish. Ragnar with the smiling eyes and solid chest … the fantasy man whose flirting and mere presence had nearly driven me to dive under the counter and hide from the possibilities.
I really hadn’t wanted to want him so much.
I inhale deeply, trying to remember and record his smell, but it’s so faint. It’s already gone. A familiar song you’re trying to recall in a passing car. The ice cream truck heading to another block on a blazing-hot summer day.
Ragnar smells like all the things I’m grasping for, that I can never have. He’s just out of my reach.
hudson
When I getout of the shower, Oliver is there, sitting on the back of the toilet. He’s staring disappointedly at me and the towel that’s on the floor.
“Okay, I’ll hang my towel properly this time.” I pick it up.
He hops down and follows me into my closet, looking doubtful as I choose my clothing for the day.
“It’s perfectly acceptable to wear sweats when you work from home,” I say. “Besides, you’re just going to shed all over me anyway. I’m not getting dressed up for that.”
This is getting ridiculous, I think. He’s not even my cat.
I pull up Ashley’s contact info and text her a photo of Oliver attempting to groom himself while sitting in a shoebox in the closet. It’s way too small for him, but he seems to think he fits there.
Your cat is nuts.
She gets right back to me.
Adorbs! Love what you’re doing with his Insta!
Any update on when you’re coming to get him?
Traveling nonstop the rest of this month. Maybe October?
Please keep me posted?I request.
I pull on a hoodie.
Surprisingly, I feel a wave of relief washing over me. October is not too bad. It means that I’ll be able to finish up the influencer challenge. And at least Oliver will get to spend some quality time here in the loft. He really seems to like it here. The oversize windows are perfect for birdwatching and napping under.
