Page 62 of Hat Trick

Holly’s on her phone, legs crossed, with our lemonades empty at her elbow. She glances up at me with a half-smile. “Who was that? The panda bearguy?”

I shiver at the reminder of my morning. No one, and I repeat no one, should ever wonder what happens when a panda tries to hump one of the head staff at a zoo . . . while having it all caught on camera and then uploaded to every social media site inexistence.

There are a lot of things I’ve covered up over the years and squashed into nothingness—but the humping panda is going to prove tricky, even forme.

Taking my seat, I plop my phone back into the drawer after setting it on silent. “It wasnobody.”

Holly gives me a droll glance. “I heard you mention the word naked,twice.”

I freeze. Did I say it twice? No more than once, right? Squirming at having been caught, I tap-tap-tap on my keyboard, bringing the computer back to life. “I, uh, may have been trying to tell a client they shouldn’t strip naked and run around the mall likethat.”

“Mhmm.” Holly taps her glass with her nails. “You know, Gwen, although my husband and I are on the outs, I do still hear thegossip.”

“Oh?” This doesn’t soundgood.

“Yes, ma’am.” Holly waits until I’ve turned to look at her before wrapping up my present of humiliation and sticking the bow on top. “It turns out that just about everyone knows you and Marshall Hunt are athing.”

Are we athing?

I’ve never really been in a thing with anyone before. My past relationships have all been short-term stints, emotionless, andboring.

This thing—so, yes, I guess it is a thing—with Marshall fits under none of those categories. “I, um”—I fidget some more—“we may be doing . . .something.”

In his movie theater, in his shower, in hisbed.

We’ve done a lot of somethings and I definitely want to domore.

Holly smiles, and it’s so sweet and sincere that I can’t help but return it. “I hope it works out for y’all.” She offers a little shrug, then twirls the glass round and round. “Jackson and I . . . well, anyway, I like you and I like Hunt. Keep that one on lockdown,girl.”

I think of Marshall walking away from me at Zoe’s engagement party. I never want to feel that level of despair again. Thisthingwith Marshall is special, and I’m ready to hold on with two hands and never letgo.

“That’s the goal,” I finally tell my client. “Trust me, that’s thegoal.”

24

Gwen

Panties or no panties.

It’s a tough decision. We’ve got three days until Christmas, and let’s just say that Boston has decided to spread its holiday cheer with snow, icy temperatures, and no hope in sight for anything above eighteendegrees.

I give Marshall’s house a quick look from where I’ve parked my car in his driveway. He’s not standing by the windows or anything like that, but I know, without a doubt, which option he’d want me to gowith.

No panties itis.

Pulling up my skirt, I thank God that Marshall lives in a quiet neighborhood without a lot of drive-by noise. Or neighbors, for that matter. All the houses are separated by a good acre, and so I go about my panty-dropping business without the fear that someone might stroll up to the window and see me flashing my naked goods to theworld.

I slip my underwear over my heels and then stuff the fabric in mypurse.

Okay,showtime.

All right,almostshowtime.

Marshall’s driveway is a sheet of black ice—not appropriate forstilettos.

Like a baby deer learning to walk, I pick my way up the sloping path, cursing my shoes for being pretty but so utterlyworthless.

“Having trouble downthere?”

---