Page 22 of Why Not Us?

Katie smiles ruefully. “Dani has mentioned Adalie a time or two. So she works for Blue Vista?”

I rub my chin, smoothing my beard. “Not exactly. She owns it. Well, part of it.”

Katie blinks. “Someone who owns a high-end event venue wants to give my daughter art lessons? Nate. I’m not trying to pry into your life, but are you sleeping with her?”

“No.”

“Do youwantto sleep with her?”

I take much longer to answer this question, and Katie notices.

“No,” I say. She just looks at me. “I’m notgoingto sleep with her. So whether I want to or not is irrelevant.”

“If you say so.” She takes another sip of her coffee.

“Taylor and I just signed a contract with Blue Vista. They’re ordering beer from us and another local brewery exclusively this summer and fall. If things go well, we’ll continue the contract forward. I’m not going to do anything to fuck that up.”

“Okay.” She sounds skeptical. “She’s pretty though?”

“She’s not at all my type.”

“And yet you want to sleep with her.”

I have no response because I do. Ever since she’d kissed me when I gave her a ride home. Hell, even before that. It doesn’t make any sense.

“If you trust her,” Katie says, “and you think she’ll be good for Dani, I think Dani would love private art lessons. I have no problem with it. But if you start something with this woman and our daughter gets hurt because it goes bad, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Fair.”

“Dad, I’m ready,” Dani calls as she bounds into the room.

After she and Katie sit and chat for a few minutes and they hug each other goodbye, Dani and I head out and drive to my house, where Taylor has already started dinner. I tell Dani about the art lessons and she is as excited as I thought she would be. I tell her to put her things away, then I go out to the backyard to make a phone call.

“Hello?” Derek answers.

I should have rehearsed what I’m going to say, because now that he’s on the phone, I have no clue.

“Hey, Derek. It’s Nate Sinclair. I got your number from Taylor.”

“Hey, Nate. What’s up?”

I squeeze my eyes shut because this is going to sound ridiculous and borderline stalker behaviour. But I can’t show up at her work like she did mine last week. I don’t know when her hours are, for one thing. I walk out and lean against my hot tub, staring up at my house.

“I’m wondering if you’d be willing to give me Adalie’s phone number? Or you can give her mine and ask her to call me.”

The line is silent so long that I move the phone away from my ear to check the call hasn’t dropped.

“This is normally something I would never do,” he says finally. “But I’ll give you her number on two conditions.”

“What are they?” I ask, warily.

“First, you have to call her tonight between 6pm and 10pm.”

“That’s needlessly specific. How will you know if I hold up my end?”

“I’ll know. And second, I need you to swear to me on whatever is most precious to you that you mean no harm to my best friend. Remembering that I know where you work and I know where you live.”

“How do you know where I live?”

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