I kept our texts casual. They were in writing, after all. I monitored my flirt level when we spoke. I didn’t want a repeat of my asshole performance. But I definitely wanted to see her again. As of late, we’d both been so focused on business, it seemed to me we could both use a little release.
Chapter 8
Poppy
“Tate has a visitor?”
My flying arms, pumping out left and right, slowed. I’d been scouting the sand for sharp shells as we walked, but my walking buddy captured my attention.
“Yep. So, I’m all yours tonight. Any interest in going into Wilmington? The Floaters are playing at The Whiskey.” Luna didn’t notice I’d lagged behind, and I lengthened my stride to catch up.
We passed the stacked surfboards near Access 42, and she waved to the surf instructors lounging between lessons in their blue fold out chairs.
“Who is his visitor?”
“Tate’s brother, Gregg.”
“Gabe didn’t come down?”
Her quick steps finally slowed. “Are you still talking to him?”
“No.” Our text exchanges didn’t really qualify as talking.
“I can ask Tate about him if you want me to.”
“No.” If I asked her to ask him, she’d take it as me having a crush, and that whole notion was ridiculous. “It’s just…he flies. It would make sense if he flew Tate’s brother down here. It’s a hobby for him.”
“I assume he flew commercial.”
It struck me as completely possible Gabe did fly him down. Maybe he didn’t stay because he didn’t want to, or maybe he was here and didn’t feel like meeting up. It wasn’t like he’d given any sign he had a real interest in me. I’d thought when he had his friend helping me out, maybe, but his texts were devoid of even the most subtle flirtation. Not that I should’ve been surprised. A good looking, successful guy like Gabe could have anyone he wanted, and he lived in Manhattan where he had a world of single women to choose from. Parties, fancy dinners, he lived the Sex and the City life. Hell, the man was a living version of Mr. Big.
“Jillian is taking her dad’s boat over and docking. We could go with them or head over on our own. Whatever you want to do.” Luna’s continued conversation broke into my thoughts.
“I’m cool with staying in. Watch a movie or something.”
“Since when do you not want to go out?” I felt, rather than saw, her side eye.
“I’m not up for spending the money.” Truth. My daily new signups had been on a steady decline for months. I’d been reaching out to any new Insta follower, but my conversion percentage had also declined.
“Is everything okay with your…business?” Her hesitant question didn’t go unnoticed. But it wasn’t like I could blame her. People had ideas. Companies spent hundreds of millions of dollars to change perception, and my measly little barely-paying-the-bills self wasn’t going to do squat to influence the judgers. I studied my friend. Concern colored her expression, and I reminded myself she didn’t judge me. Not really.
“It’s fine. But there’s a training class in Vegas I’m considering.” Thad, Gabe’s friend, recommended it. I wasn’t exactly jonesing to spend the holidays in Vegas, but because of the holiday timeframe, the school offered a discounted fee, and there were a few potential franchise owners in Nevada he thought I should meet with.
“What kind of training?”
“Restaurant management.”
“That’s awesome.” She jumped so high her feet left the beach a good foot.
“How do you do that?”
“What?”
“This is sand. Not a trampoline.” She ignored me.
“This is so great. Tell me all about it.”
After giving her the low down, I left a beaming Luna on the beach and returned home with plans for her to come over later. I opened my laptop and scanned my incoming messages. One request threw me for a loop.
I have this thing for Raggedy Ann. Any chance you’d be willing to wear a Raggedy Ann costume? The sexy kind. Think you could find that?
I opened a browser to search Google. Gunner always sent strange requests. But if the costume wasn’t too outlandish, his requests qualified as easy money. One time he mailed me—to my PO Box in Southport Port, because hey, I’m no dummy—a Super Girl costume. He did not guess my size correctly, which led to a nearly catastrophic photo shoot session. Nothing screamed, ‘needs to lose a few pounds’ quite like ripped seams.
My phone rang, flashing Gabriel Chesterton. An annoyingly wide smile broke out on my face. I snapped up the phone.
“Hey. Do you know who Raggedy Ann is?” I asked as I pounded down the stairs into my den.
“No. Should I?”
“Probably not. Where are you?” I glanced out on my deck, hoping.
“In my apartment. Finally, have a moment to breathe. It’s been manic.”
“Oh, really?” The flurry of excitement crashed.
“Yes, but things should calm down. Researchers discovered the most recent virus responds to a drug that’s readily available, and they’ve lowered the health risk. Markets are rebounding. What’s up with Raggedy Ann?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s something I’ve got to research. Hey, I really can’t thank you enough for Thad. He’s been a godsend. So much help.”
“No problem.”
“Has he been keeping you up to date?” I hesitated asking, but I couldn’t help but wonder.
“No. I haven’t spoken to him.”
I plopped down on my sofa with a thud. “Oh. Well, yeah, you said you’ve been busy.” Thad had been spending a ton of time with me as a favor to his friend, but I guessed it was rather conceited to think they’d chat about me when they spoke.
“He sent me your most recent business plan and updated loan application, now that I think about it. I haven’t checked it out yet.”
“Well, don’t. You don’t need to. He’s been great. You’ve been swamped, and there’s no need. Do you think you’ll get down here anytime soon?” Clicking sounds filtered through the line. “Luna mentioned you love skydiving.”
“Your middle name is
