Honor

Chapter 38

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

R eid

“I can’t help you with a wedding gift, Reid,” Evie says as we stroll down a bustling sidewalk in Greenwich Village. “I barely know Lottie, and I just met Randall.”

I’ve known Randall for most of my life, and I have no fucking clue what to get the happy couple for their upcoming nuptials.

I was going to dump that task in Miss Starling’s lap as I do whenever I need a gift sent to someone, but this is a unique situation, so I took full advantage of that by inviting her to lunch with me.

“Do they have a honeymoon destination worked out?” I reach for the sleeve of her dress to slow her since we’re now crossing the street and a guy on a bike seems determined to stay true to his path.

He whizzes past us without flinching, narrowly missing us both.

“What a jerk!” she yells after him, her words getting lost in the symphony of sounds that make up this city on any given day.

He doesn’t bother glancing over his shoulder. There’s a good chance he didn’t hear her and an even better chance that he doesn’t give a shit what she thinks of him.

“Thank you for slowing me down,” she offers her gratitude with a shy smile. “That could have been catastrophic.”

Or the guy could have pulled a smooth move and darted around her at the last minute. We’ll never know, though, so I nod. “Not a problem, Evie.”

She eyes me up as we stand in the middle of the street. “Where exactly are we going for lunch?”

She has her suspicions. I see that in her brilliant blue eyes. I hone in on that speck of lilac in her right iris. “Your right eye is slightly different than the left.”

That widens her smile until it brightens her entire face.

Jesus. How can a person be this utterly beautiful?

It’s not just the shape of her face or her bone structure. It’s her. Everything about her radiates an energy that is beautiful, peaceful, calming…

A truck horn sends both of our gazes to the left.

The man driving the waste management truck that stopped just a foot short of where we’re standing darts his head out of the driver’s side window. “Hey lovers! Move it!”

“We’re not lovers!” Miss Starling yells back at him, but she adds a wave to it.

The truck driver responds in kind with a wave, too, but his involves a closed fist with just his middle finger wagging in the air.

“Same to you, asshole,” she whispers.

Her voice is so soft that I’m the only one who can hear it, but I like it. “You tell him, Evie.”

She flashes me a grin before she grabs my hand to yank me out of the truck’s path and back onto the sidewalk across the street.

My hand is dropped before I can enjoy touching her.

“We’re going to Pickled Dish, aren’t we?” A light, breezy laugh accompanies those words. “It’s just around the corner.”

“Busted.” I raise both hands as if I’m surrendering. “I thought you might enjoy sampling their offerings.”

“Oh, I will.” Her eyes widen. “I’m going to order exactly what you did when you sent me here to get hotdogs.”

“I’ll order the same,” I tell her as we round the corner to find a line running outside the door of the popular eatery.

“Oh, shit,” she curses again under her breath. “It looks like we’ll have to wait.”

I don’t mention that the founder of Pickled Dish was a close friend of my grandfather. Back then, the restaurant had a different name, and the menu selection was limited to ten items, but the quality of the food was second to none.

Ownership has passed from one generation to another since, and along with the name change to Pickled Dish, the menu has expanded so it not only satisfies the long time regulars but it attracts new diners.

I could easily cut the line by sending a quick text message to the current owner, who happens to be the founder’s grandson. Pulling strings in this city is easy for me because I’ve built countless relationships from the ground up. Many of them were forged by my grandfather’s connection to the dozens of New Yorkers he met daily.

“I guess the bright side is that we can talk about Randall and Lottie’s wedding gift while we wait.”

And I can stare at her while we do that, so it’s a win-win for everyone.

“We have all the time in the world,” I lie since I have a meeting back at the office in less than an hour.

She stares at my face. “Are you really you, sir?”

I can’t contain a laugh, so I let it out. It’s loud enough to turn the heads of the people waiting in line with us.

She playfully slaps my shoulder. “You know what I mean. The last few days have been nice. Seeing you outside of the office has been eye-opening for me.”

I won’t tempt fate by asking her what the hell that means. I’ll take it as a compliment.

“You do have a meeting at one,” she reminds me. “Do you want me to push it back a bit?”

I don’t want her attention to leave me, but if she does reschedule it, it means more time like this with her. “See if they’re free at two.”

“On it,” she answers as she tugs her phone out of her purse.

She has the client on the phone in no time flat. As they speak, she gives me the thumbs-up, signaling I get an extra hour to spend just with her.

This day just got a hell of a lot better.