Running the Numbers (13 page)

A fire blazed, washing the room, which opened seamlessly into a small kitchen, in the dancing light of the flames. Two rugs, one crisscrossing over the other, were by the door. Sadie’s boots were kicked off to one side. Blankets of all sizes, shapes, colors, and materials were either tossed over the arms of the sofas and chairs or folded and stacked nearby on the floor. This was a place he could put his feet up or forget to use a coaster without feeling like he’d committed a cardinal sin. Cozy and warm, Blake was filled with a sudden sense of comfort he’d never once felt walking into Amanda’s perfect condo.

Overall, he appreciated the classy elegance of Amanda’s home, but he also struggled with making certain he didn’t use the incorrect hand towel or forget to remove his shoes. Sadie’s house seemed the exact opposite.

Sadie busied herself in the kitchen. She turned and smiled when he stepped inside. “Come on in. I could use your help.” She pointed to a bottle and two mismatched wineglasses, one abnormally large, sitting on a butcher block table on the far side of the tiny round dining table with only two chairs—which, unsurprisingly, didn’t match. “Fill ’em up.”

The kitchen looked like a thrift store display gone wrong. No matching dishes, no design theme, no coordination to speak of. Three hand towels were squeezed together over the oven handle, none the same color. Oven mitts mounted over the stove clashed horribly.

Sadie wasn’t much better. She wore plaid pajama pants with holey socks and a tank top. Fresh-faced, same as the day they’d met at the airport. Somehow, the lack of eyeliner made her muted silvery eyes stand out more than ever, like little moons fixed to her face, utterly compelling.

Blake inhaled deeply. “You’re the living, breathing opposite of Amanda Avery.”

Sadie tossed her head to the side and grinned. “My house dresses like she used to.” Her pearly gaze swept from the open collar of his button-up to the polished loafers on his feet. “I should’ve warned you I don’t dress up on holidays. I figure, I dress up more than I dress down, with work. Might as well make the most of a freebie day to ditch the get-up.”

“My fault for not asking.” He shrugged. “It’s habit to dress for an occasion. The last several years, out of some sense of duty, Quinn and Jack made sure they were in L.A. for most holidays. They always tried to say they did it for Seth, because he wanted to see his old friends, but I think they felt sorry for me and wanted to make sure I wasn’t alone. They must be really happy to finally be able to stay in London instead of traveling half the globe on my account.” He untucked his shirt and held out his arms for inspection. “Better?”

Sadie nodded resolutely. “Loads. We’re practically identical now.”

Blake laughed and opened the bottle of low-alcohol sparkling grape juice. That was probably for the best.

Though Amanda had the whole blond-haired, green-eyed Quinn thing going on, it was difficult for him to ignore his inclination to find Sadie attractive and alluring. Amanda’s grace was often rigid, and Sadie’s loose, languid way of moving and speaking put him at ease.

He rolled his shoulders, unsure of when he’d become so tense, and set the modestly filled wineglasses on the table.

Sadie glanced over, cocked an eyebrow, and frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I was going to set the table.”

“Remember that time you said I was Amanda’s living, breathing opposite? Yeah, we’re eating on the sofa. Don’t you know there’s a game today?” She checked her watch and picked up speed, haphazardly dropping fat slices of tomato on each sandwich and applying the bread topper. She pressed it down and dusted her hands together with a satisfied inspection. “Excellent. Last year, I forgot the tomato
and
I was out of mayo. It was awful. To top it off, we lost to the Seahawks, nineteen to three. Worst Thanksgiving ever. Hands down.” She left the sandwiches to set up T.V. trays in front of the sofa. “We can let the fire burn down some if it gets too toasty in here.”

“I think it’s nice.” Blake set a wineglass on each tray, hoping Sadie would choose the weirdly large one. He’d feel ridiculous drinking out of something as wide as his face.

She returned with a sandwich plate in each hand, set them down, and left again, this time returning with a small bowl of cranberry sauce, which she proceeded to spoon onto the plates. “I’ve got pie for dessert. Pumpkin and day-old reduced-price Dutch apple if you’re feeling brave.”

She switched on the game and, for the next four hours, Blake forgot to think about anything beyond the score. He even found himself rooting for her team, even though he’d never been much of a sports guy. Her passion was contagious. She shouted and cheered, yelled and cursed at the referees. She clapped and hooted when her team scored and covered her face with her hands when they made a mistake. She had nicknames for the players, depending on their performance. Words like
pecker
were tossed around, and a few Blake was pretty sure she’d made up on the spot.

By the time the game was over, darkness had fallen, Blake’s stomach hurt from overeating, and Sadie had come down from her maniacal high after her team won the game.

“I thought we were going to be screwed since so many of our playmakers retired last season.” She muttered as she collected their plates. “They were the heart of the team. I was devastated. But we have a few promising rookies.” She shrugged at her own assessment and headed for the kitchen.

Blake settled back into the ridiculously comfortable sofa. His shoes were off, in a messy pile near the door. He’d taken off his button-up at some point, and the light gray T-shirt he had on underneath was almost the exact shade of Sadie’s eyes. He was about to suggest a movie when it hit him.

He shouldn’t be here.

Keeping Sadie off his mind had become a daily battle. He thought about her all the time. What did she make of Amanda’s new fashion choices? Had she liked the pecan pie better than the cheesecake Amanda made last week? Wherever his thoughts went, there Sadie popped up to snag his attention. It was too easy to laugh along with her, get caught up in her energy, and let Amanda slip his mind entirely.

The way Quinn had slipped his mind all those years ago.

He didn’t know what was the bigger joke—that he thought he could be friends with a woman he was clearly attracted to or that he thought himself capable of monogamy. He stood and grabbed for his shoes, searching the sofa for his shirt.

Sadie returned, her eyebrows drawn in concern. “You all right? Lose something?”

Blake found his shirt, wedged in between the cushions. He yanked it out and laid it over his arm. “I think I should go.”

“Sure. Game’s over. Are you okay to drive? The wine was pretty weak.”

He ignored her and sat again to shove his feet into his loafers.

She let out a small breathy laugh. “I guess it was too much to ask to have a nice, normal Thanksgiving. For whatever it’s worth, regardless of whatever put that awful pinched look on your face, I had a good time. And I’m glad you came.”

She was killing him. She was so human, compared to Amanda, who was always proper and always said exactly the right words and would never dream of calling his face awful. At least, not to his face. That was a purely Sadie thing to do. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Look at me. I’m repeating old habits. Girlfriend leaves town, and I’m hanging out drinking with another woman, laughing, and forgetting I even have a girlfriend. I’m asking for it.”

Sadie dipped her chin and batted her eyelashes. “So, you like me, huh?”

He took a deep breath and made himself look away. Would she ever stop reminding him of Kira? “You’re easy to be around. Amanda is more of a challenge.” His shoes finally back on his feet where they belonged, Blake stood and straightened, prepared to leave. “But anything that’s worth having is worth fighting for, right?”

“Huh.” Sadie licked her lips and crossed her arms. “You see the irony here? You judge me for my ambition, yet I don’t believe my desire to become chief accountant is any different from your bulldog approach to earning Amanda’s love. Because I’ll tell you one thing, Blake, my career isn’t a decision I made in a glance, which is exactly how you came to your twisted conclusions about Amanda. And you know what else? I’ve finally figured it out. She reminds you of Quinn. And I remind you of Kira.”

Stunned by her deduction, Blake swallowed and blinked, unsure of how to explain, or if it was even possible. “No, you—I didn’t mean—”

“I can tell by the disdainful, disgusted looks you throw my way from time to time. What is it? My height? My hair? My
ambition?
” Sadie turned her shoulders, cocked her head, and twisted her hips like a model on a runway. “Or is it the whole package?”

Blake sputtered. He’d never meant Sadie to know how he compared the two of them. Kira had been so manipulative and cruel, which wasn’t like Sadie at all. “Sadie, I’m sorry, I—”

“Go home, Blake. In case it flew over your sloping forehead, you’ve insulted me twice tonight. For the record, it takes more than a cozy atmosphere to get me into bed. You’re so concerned with what you might do, it completely slipped your mind that it takes two, babe. And while your track record sucks mightily, I have a little more class. I’d never fool around with you behind Amanda’s back.”

He deserved the sharp rebuke and the resulting shame that seared him from the inside out. He opened the door, turning back only to thank her for dinner, but she had a palm out and a look on her face that dared him to speak.

“I already have your ticket for the auction tomorrow night,” she said. “Since it’s for a local charity, I expect you won’t let me waste it. Be ready at six.”

* * * *

If Blake ever bought a cabin like Fox Watch, he’d name it Dog House.

Because apparently, that was where he lived.

He sat alone at their table and watched Sadie make the rounds. She had on a thick, black sweater dress, with a wide neck that showed off her collarbones and came up to mid-thigh, and furry black boots that laced up the back and had soles like a hiking boot. Fashion and function. She broke up the monotony of head-to-toe black with a thick cobalt blue belt high on her waist, which cast a spotlight on her petite hourglass figure to the point Blake kept having to remind himself to look away.

She seemed to know everyone in the club. From table to table, she shook hands, hugged, laughed, and joked. He’d probably be at her side if he hadn’t been such an ass last night.

He moped and tried to figure out exactly where he’d screwed up. Should he have stayed at Sadie’s and tempted fate? Ultimately, he’d made a choice and picked Amanda over Sadie. It didn’t explain the guilt lapping at his conscience. After all, he was
dating
Amanda. Of course, he owed her his loyalty.

Eventually, Blake forgot to question his motives and got lost in watching the crowd. He felt slightly voyeuristic; it reminded him of the nature shows where camera guys hid behind bushes and captured the secret lives of meerkats or hyenas. Except, these were people, and every personal interaction reminded him he was an outsider.

After a while, Sadie came back to the table, all smiles. She sobered some when their gazes met. “I saw you auctioned on the antique rocking chair. Plan on taking up knitting?”

He didn’t dare smile. “Not if things work out with Eric. I’ll be busy training him to fetch me a beer from the fridge. But he’s been difficult lately.” He hadn’t given up on his little fox friend, despite Sadie’s warnings. It didn’t have so much to do with Jack anymore. It’d become a personal challenge. He had to prove something to himself, but damn if he knew what.

She shook her head but seemed amused. “You’re a weird guy, Blake. They’re about to call the auction winners. You better make another lap around before it’s too late. After that, I think we should get out of here. There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

* * * *

Blake didn’t appear too dazzled. “A bar?”

“You could be more impressed.” Sadie did her best not to pout. “It’s The Silver Dollar. Kind of famous. Come on, let’s get a seat and order some hot wings. They have the best hot wings in town.”

“We just ate dinner.”

This guy really tested her patience. “Consider it dessert. Seriously, what man argues with hot wings?” On an eye roll she hoped he didn’t catch, she led them toward the curved bar. The overhead lights glinted brilliantly off the silver dollars embedded in its surface. She signaled the bartender. “Two beers, please. Whatever local brew you’ve got on tap. And wings.”

The bartender nodded and whisked away.

Blake wearily joined her at the barstool to her left.

She cut him off before he could get started on how they shouldn’t be drinking together. “Blake, I owe you an apology. So, you’re going to let me buy you this beer—like a
friend
—and I’m going to tell you I’m sorry. But first, the beer.”

Two thick glasses with beautiful foamy tops were placed in front of them. Sadie sipped and smacked her lips. “Oh, that’s good. Snake River’s pale ale is tops.”

Blake took a tentative drink. “Not bad.”

It was as good as an insult, but Sadie hadn’t brought Blake here to lecture him on respecting the local award-winning brewery. She took a deep, fortifying gulp. “I’m sorry for flirting with you. It was a crappy thing to do. I hope you know I don’t mean anything by it.” She paused. “Okay, that’s a lie. The truth is I have something of a crush on you. So, yeah, maybe inviting you over wasn’t such a grand idea.”

It was like she’d slapped him. He jerked, a furious blush sprouted at his collar and raced up his neck to cover his cheeks, and a little beer sloshed over the rim of his glass. His mouth worked, but words didn’t emerge.

She patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything. I’ll do the talking. The other day, you asked what was between Wes and me. I told you the truth. As of now, there’s nothing. But we have history.”

Sadie sighed and looked away. Would she ever get over the embarrassment of her love life? Would anything ever happen to change the pattern, mix things up a bit? She turned back to Blake.

Blake watched her with an unblinking stare.