Page 30 of Shot Taker

I ignore the pleasant buzzing in my stomach and sneak a last look at the flowers before I head out the door for real.

* * *

“How’s the project going?” Mari asks me when we’re settled at the restaurant.

“The skyline is looking fantastic,” Harlan adds.

When Mari texted to suggest dinner tonight, I jumped at it because I want to rebuild my relationship with my sister. Since I got back to Colorado, I’ve seen her twice for coffee. The last time, she was more interested in who I was dating—no one, I’d emphasized—than our relationship.

She asked if Harlan could come too, and I was only a little disappointed. He’s a good guy, and now he’s family.

“Thank you. The skyline is actually done, and I’m starting on the next part. I figured you’d be on top of it given how interested James is in this anniversary gala.”

Harlan tilts his head. “James and I have different roles.”

“And styles.” I lean in, buttering my bread. “I’m guessing you don’t have a diamond watch that looks heavy enough to bludgeon your enemies with.”

Harlan’s mouth twitches as he reaches for his wine.

“Is he really as much of a ‘my way or the highway’ guy as he seems?” I ask.

“More,” Harlan says.

I laugh, but it’s unsettling to be working for a person with that reputation.

“May I take the extra place setting?” the waitress asks.

“Sure,” I say, but Mari holds up a hand.

“No, he’s running behind. There he is!”

A tingle of dread climbs up my spine. I turn to see a guy in a sport coat striding toward us, his wide, white smile blinding.

“This is Paul. He works with me,” Mari says.

“Hi, Paul.” I plaster on a smile.

“Neat hair,” he says as he takes the empty seat opposite me.

“Thank you.”

“It’s pink,” he goes on, folding the napkin tidily in his lap without taking his eyes off me.

I try to match his wide smile. “It is.”

Mari kicks me under the table, and I remind myself to play nice.

The four of us make conversation, and I resist the urge to throttle my sister for setting me up on a blind date. I make it until our appetizers are done, while the guys are talking about sports—apparently Paul’s more into golf than basketball—and Mari rises to use the bathroom.

I follow her in.

“Really? A date?” I demand when she emerges from the stall to wash her hands.

“Brad’s been out of the picture for months. You need a boyfriend.”

“Mar, I don’t need to be taken care of.”

She flips her palms. “Maybe you want someone. I love being with Harlan. He’s smart and handsome. He props me up when I’m down and calls me on my bullshit when I’m talking crap.”

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