But first, he was so tall she couldn’t reach it without a ladder.
And second, she didn’t want to be arrested for assault.
Yeah. Minor details.
“What’s this—”
She narrowed her eyes and took great joy in cutting him off. “Only your cow of a date’s latest release. Maybe you should check the New York Times the next time you go searching for your decency.”
He winced, looked the slightest bit sick. “Katherine?”
Kay lifted her chin, huffed dismissively, and followed up with an insult she would later look upon with pride. For once, she hadn’t rolled over and accepted some asshole’s judgment. She’d owned him and the situation.
“I go by Kay.”
A beat.
“But in your case, I go by Fuck-Off-Because-You-Never-Even-Had-A-Chance.”
And she walked out of the restaurant.
There should have been trumpets and banners . . . or at the very least, a round of applause as she went.
Instead, the only thing that trailed her was the click-click of her heels.
But, for that night, it was enough.
Chapter Two
Kay
“Just because you saved my laptop from that Venti Frappuccino doesn’t mean you get to torture me,” she accused Heather the following day. She flopped down into the chair across from her friend. It was a dramatic move, but Kay held on to enough sense to not spill the steaming cup of tea she’d just purchased.
Her friend winced and took a sip of her coffee. “I’m guessing things didn’t go well last night?”
“Well?” Kay snorted. “An unmitigated disaster would be a more accurate description.”
“Damn, did he talk about himself too much?” Heather asked. “Sometimes people get nervous and try to impress their dates. Or was he too accommodating? Like he was so worried about you and your feelings that you didn’t get to know him at all?”
“Heath,” Kay replied. “I’m saying this with the utmost affection but . . . you’re losing your touch. Your wonderful hubby has rotted your once sharp and precise brain.” She raised a finger when Heather would have argued. “I see it with my characters all the time. They fall in love and they get soft—”
“One,” Heather interjected. “Your characters are a product of your brain, so they don't get full human status in this argument and two, RoboTech and its subsidiaries made record profits last year, so my hubby isn’t making me soft. Rather”—she waggled her eyebrows—“he’s giving me hard.”
“First,” Kay said, mimicking her, “gross. And second . . . gross.”
“That’s all you got?” Heather lifted a brow. “I thought you were supposed to be some super successful author.”
Kay rolled her eyes. “Words are hard.”
Heather’s mouth curved. “Uh-huh. Okay, so why was your date with Garret a disaster?”
“Before or after he stood me up?”
Kay had to hand it to herself, she’d surprised her friend and that didn’t happen very often. So, she took great pleasure in the slack-jawed expression currently adorning Heather’s face.
“I waited an hour,” she said. “Nursed that bread basket like a son of a bitch, downed two glasses of really good wine. But after sitting alone at the table for an hour, I decided I’d had enough punishment and so I paid and left.”
Heather winced. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I thought Garret was—”