Read First Time: Ian's Story (First Time (Ian) Book 1) for Free Online Page B

Stafford group
back in the eighties.”
    “ Well, she remembers you,
too.” Burt grinned. “You were quite the ladies’ man, I
hear.”
    “ She wasn’t the only intern
I fucked in those days, but I wouldn’t call myself a ladies’ man.”
I paused. “You’ve talked to Carrie?”
    Burt nodded. “She isn’t with Stafford
anymore. Got into the hotel business. And she wants a good, sturdy
firm to work with her on a new resort.” He gave me a moment to let
his words land.
    “ She’s looking at our firm?”
I asked, though the answer seemed obvious. Burt’s flair for the
dramatic could wring these conversations into half-hour
meetings.
    He nodded. “You could lead the team on this.
It’s going to require temporary relocation, but if either of us are
going to do it, it would have to be you.”
    “ And we certainly can’t send
Kyle.” The thought of spending some time in the Bahamas had its
appeal.
    “ Carrie is based out of
Madrid these days—”
    “ That’s posh, isn’t
it?”
    Burt laughed. “I’m not complaining if she
wants to send some of that posh money our way. As I was saying,
she’s based in Madrid, but she’ll be in New York at the end of
November. Maybe, in the meantime, you could get in touch with her
and talk about her plans.”
    “ Yeah, not a problem.” It
would be nice to catch up with Carrie, anyway. Even if I didn’t end
up helming the project, we’d always been friendly, so I could
certainly lend the benefit of that tenuous connection to the
firm.
    “ Great.” Burt got up and
headed to the door, then paused and said, “Take it easy on Kyle. He
fucked up, but at least he knows how he fucked up and how to fix
it.”
    I nodded. “I’ve been a bit a prick of to
him. I’ll back off.”
    “ Good.”
    After Burt left, I set the alarm on my phone
for a ten-minute nap, then lay back down and thought about palm
trees and warm white sand.
    * * * *
    I’d never
realized how much planning went into a picnic, but I’m sure we
could have launched a manned space flight with less. I was all
right with this; it gave me a chance to talk to Penny
more.
    Central Park on a Saturday in August was a
ridiculous place and time for a date, but we’d agreed to meet at
two o’clock, across the pond from the castle. You couldn’t get more
romantic than that.
    I’d managed to get a perfect spot to lay out
our picnic blanket and set down the basket by the time Penny rang
my phone. “I have managed to get us the perfect spot,” I answered.
“But you’ve got to act fast. There are some sinister-looking
hipsters nearby, and they’ve got anti-capitalist literature.”
    She giggled, and I could hear her smile
through the phone. “I am in the general vicinity. Stand up, so I
can find you.”
    I frowned. “I am standing up. Where are
you?”
    I startled at the tap on my shoulder, and
when I turned, Penny stood behind me, wearing that smile I’d just
imagined. She held up the paper bag she carried by the handles.
“Fruit and water, as requested.”
    “ Something so you don’t have
to touch the grass,” I said, repeating her words from our
conversation earlier in the week. “And sandwiches.”
    She’d worn her hair in a ponytail that was
one big, sleek curl cascading from the back of her head, and just a
little makeup. Living with Gena had taught me an important lesson
about women and makeup: when men thought they weren’t wearing any,
they often were. We were just bad at noticing, or we expected them
to look gorgeous all the time.
    Not that Penny wouldn’t look gorgeous, even
if she had the flu.
    “ You look very pretty,” I
told her, because if I’d said what I was really thinking, she’d
probably have taken out a restraining order.
    She beamed up at me. “Thanks. You look good,
too. I like that you ditched the undertaker look.”
    “ Undertaker?” I’d certainly
dressed down for the occasion, in jeans and a linen button-down
with the sleeves pushed up, but I didn’t think it made my