“Call in sick.” Hayden took a breath. “You guys, I need this.”
Her friends exchanged a curious glance. It would be too easy to spill everything out onto the table when they were too drunk to remember the details tomorrow morning. But it wouldn’t make her feel better and it would obligate them to stay out drinking when they’d rather be home with their boyfriends.
“What’s going on?” Story turned in her seat. “I thought something felt off.”
“It’s nothing,” she hastened to say. “It’s just been a crazy week. First, my mother tasked me with organizing another charity ball, then I got a leaky hose on the West Side Highway—”
“Huh?” Both girls asked at the same time. Hayden quickly gave them a rundown of her West Side nightmare and Brent’s subsequent roadside assistance. She left out his innuendo-laced directions and blatant ass-gazing. And the fact that she’d spent every moment since imagining a very different outcome. One not involving thirty children. One where he shows up with his toolbox shirtless and well…gives her a tune-up in the back of his ESU truck. The temperature in Hildebrand’s suddenly felt sweltering.
There he went again. Popping into her head and kick-starting her libido when he should be the furthest thing from her mind. If she married Stuart, he probably wouldn’t take very kindly to her fantasizing about Brent. A man who’d threatened him in his own kitchen.
Marrying Stuart would mean less time with Story and Ruby and the guys. No more Saturday nights bantering over cheap beers for her. Not when she’d be expected to appear on Stuart’s arm at every high-society function, introducing him as her successful new husband.
Her heart clenched at the realization.
“Yikes. I hope you’re planning on switching bus companies for next summer.”
Hayden picked up a discarded lime and plunked it into an empty shot glass. “Actually…no. I’m, uh, going to hire five more buses. I want to expand the program.” She realized her hands were fidgeting so she folded them in her lap. On the ride from Manhattan to the farm, she’d been struck by inspiration, spending the two-hour ride outlining plans to present to the Clean Air committee. The charity would need an influx of funds, but she’d never felt more confident that she could pull it off. No matter what happened with her father’s company, with the charity’s popularity and reputation, she could find other donors. When she’d walked onto the bus after repairing the engine, she’d felt amazing. Like she could accomplish anything. Fix an engine. Build an even more successful charity. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Brent had played a role, encouraging her without realizing it.
Story squeezed her hand. “Hayden, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you say anything?”
She brushed off the question. “It’s still in the early planning phase.”
“Well, with you in charge, five buses is only a start,” Ruby said. “Nice job.”
Not knowing how to handle the compliment, Hayden only smiled in response. Lately, she’d started wondering if people saw more in her than she did herself. While she didn’t want to let herself hope they were right, the decision to expand the program so close to her heart gave her a sense of purpose. It felt good. Once again, she thought back to helping Brent repair the bus, as if she could pinpoint the exact moment her self-confidence had been given a much-needed boost. Even so, she couldn’t help feeling a flash of bitterness over the timing. Just as she was coming into her own, her independence could suffer a major setback if she married Stuart. Not to mention, her rocky relationship with Brent…
Brent again. Why wouldn’t he go away?
As if synchronized, both Story and Ruby’s phones buzzed on the table. To her friends’ credit, neither one of them paid their devices the slightest bit of attention. Hayden took pity on them, however, even as her heart swelled that they would stay out all night if she needed to talk. She hiked her purse over her shoulder and stood.
“Come on, guys. We can’t have you late for Troy Bennett and Daniel Chase booty calls. It would be sacrilege.”
“Are you sure?” Story gained her feet, wobbling noticeably, telling Hayden she would need to take her friend directly to Daniel’s door. Knowing Brent would be there, too, she did her best to temper the warring dread and excitement in her belly.
“Ruby, you prop her up while I call a cab.”
“Go teamwork.”
…
Brent and Troy stood in the lobby of Daniel’s building, still talking about the Mets game that had ended an hour earlier. Daniel had come downstairs under the pretense of seeing them off, though Brent suspected he was just growing anxious for Story to arrive. Troy grew surlier by the second as he waited for a call from Ruby to tell him she’d gotten to his place, just around the corner from Daniel’s Upper East Side apartment. As for Brent? He should have headed back to Queens an hour ago, but knowing Hayden made up the trio of girls, he’d begun inventing excuses to stick around.
“Why don’t you two Nancys turn your phones off and go to bed? I guarantee they wouldn’t keep you waiting so long next time.”
Troy snorted. “That method won’t work with my girl. She’d have me for breakfast.” He paused. “Come to think of it, your plan might not be half-bad.”
“Excellent advice, Brent.” Daniel shook his head. “This must be why you’re beating off the women with a stick.”
Brent didn’t take the bait, falling silent as he thought of Hayden for the tenth time that hour. If she called him right now and asked him to come over, he’d be knocking on her door before she hung up the phone. He wouldn’t have the willpower to resist. Alternating images flashed in his head as though projected on a movie screen. Hayden in her tight skirt and stockings, eyeing him with distaste. Hayden swollen-lipped and rumpled, giggling into her pillow. Hayden awestruck as a busload of students applauded her efforts. Which one would she be tonight if he went to her? He didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to see her, but he’d f**ked his chances their first night together. Even when he’d helped her repair the bus, she’d made it perfectly clear his hands weren’t welcome on her body. But God, the idea of not touching her again made him feel sick and anxious.
Daniel, perceptive as always, jumped all over his failure to issue an idiotic comeback. “Uh-oh. Someone’s holding back.” His expression turned disbelieving when Brent still didn’t respond. “Whoa. Since when do you ever hold back?”
“Since you two started telling your girlfriends every damn thing,” Brent said, thinking fast. “I feel like I’m part of the Babysitter’s Club. You two are like Stacey and Dawn.”
“First of all, you know way too much about the Babysitter’s Club,” Troy interjected. “Second, I call bullshit.”
“Complete and utter.”
“That’s my cue to take off.” He slapped them both on the back. “I hope they show up this century.”
No sooner were the words out of Brent’s mouth than a cab pulled up along the curb. It was like watching the clown car portion of a circus act. One door flung open and Story stumbled out onto the sidewalk, still singing an a cappella version of Love Shack.