Because Heather was Heather fucking O’Keith.
And there was just something about her that made people fall in line.
“What happened in chapter twenty-eight?”
“You mean where the hero realized he was an ass and then went to grovel for forgiveness?”
Her lips curved slightly. And it was slight, but that barely-there smile was enough to allow Garret to relax.
Marginally.
“I hope you took notes,” she said.
“I did. I sent her a gift card to the local bookstore along with a ridiculously expensive notebook and stationary set I picked out myself.”
“Hmm.”
“And flowers and chocolates and a handwritten note.”
Heather crossed to her chair, plunked down into it. “Good. And you’re going to ask her out again?”
Garret blinked. “Well, I think I fucked that particular option up, don’t you?”
“Hmm.” Heather opened a folder on her desk. “Well, it just so happens that I need another man to round out my table at RoboTech’s fundraiser this Saturday.”
His brows rose, hope bubbled up in his blood. “And will your table include one Kay Hart?”
“Of course, it will.” A sage smile. “Now, about your proposal . . .”
Chapter Four
Kay
For the second time in only a week she was out late, not in bed, and not in her sleep pajamas.
Her heels made a little click click as she walked into the venue that was housing Heather’s fundraising event, and she had to resist the urge to tug at the straps of her bodice. She didn’t often wear dresses, and certainly not ones that were so limited in the fabric department.
But after the disastrous date with Garret, she’d wanted to feel sexy.
So, she’d ditched her glasses, put in contacts, and squeezed into her best pushup bra.
Paired with the long navy chiffon gown and she’d pulled her own teen movie makeup montage. The point was that Kay could be glam when she had to—or in this very rare case, when she wanted to.
Garret Williams could just stick that up his incredibly yummy ass. Which was so not the point, but still a nice thought.
Who was the cow now?
Hmph. He’d even had the nerve to send her flowers and expect her to accept his apology for being a jerk.
And chocolates, her brain reminded her. And a gorgeous journal and pen. And—
“Enough,” she growled.
“Are you all right?”
The college-aged boy running the coat check gave her a concerned look, and Kay realized she’d paused in the middle of taking off her jacket and was talking to herself.
Aloud. In public.