KNOT: A Wake Family Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

but, sadly, that was our first— and last —kiss.
    A shy kisser can bloom, opening up to a phenomenal kisser.
    A kisser like Lauren was a mess. All movement, no feeling. Almost mechanical. There were no dynamics to it, unlike with most girls. No working your way to the good part. Which I can admit gets a little steamy, even wet sometimes.
    Simply going from not kissing to car wash like she had, well there was no helping that.
    Not interested.
    “It was a great night. I’ll see you,” I said, leaving the statement noncommittal. She may not have been out of my league, but her mouth was out of control.
    You see, I loved control.
    She’d been late. That was forgivable.
    She was a terrible kisser, which was not.
    Time to move along.
     

     
    Another date.
    Another girl.
    Another night in a club, and taking someone home to scratch an itch. It was becoming unsatisfying.
    Some dates were good and led to a second date. Some dates were good, and the women launched our relationship right into picking out China patterns.
    What was with that?
    Maybe I was meant to be a bachelor, I thought as I looked out of my corner office window. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for a relationship.
    Who the fuck knew?
    The facts were: I wasn’t finding anyone who I was drawn to, and I wasn’t getting fucked on a regular basis because of the search. Realistically, I wasn’t getting promoted anytime soon; I’d just made junior that year.
    After some thought, I decided I was going back to my old ways for a while. I’d just be quieter about it.
    I’d spent months of going at it from the gentlemanly approach, I wasn’t finding success. Besides, I didn’t have much time to dedicate to it anymore. I was moving into my new apartment soon, and I’d acquired my first large commercial account.
    The timing for a new relationship was off, and timing was everything.

 
    Nora—Saturday, February 9, 2008
     
    W hat time was it anyway?
    Hell if I knew. It didn’t matter, it was well past midnight.
    I sat in the posh suite I’d booked myself into while I sorted the final plans, tweaked the last few table changes, and made notes for reminder calls the next morning. The Harbor Hotel-Los Angeles was hosting the Smithson/Andrews wedding, and I was overseeing the event.
    This particular job had been endless. A bride who could never make up her mind. A groom’s mother coming to terms with her last son being married off. Everyone had a vested interest, including the groom who insisted on being copied on every single email—down to the chair covers.
    Controlling prick.
    However, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. All I had to do was get through this weekend, then I was headed to Chicago. I was going to blow the socks off the manager there, and hopefully, swoop in and snag their open position.
    The Los Angeles location of the Harbor Hotel chain was where I’d presently been working, but each hotel was in charge of their hiring, respectively. The Chicago branch was without an event coordinator, and while it only looked like I was volunteering to help them in their time of need, from a corporate standpoint, I was really hoping I’d be a good, permanent solution to their needs.
    I’d liked Los Angeles for what it was, a city where anything was possible. A city where every lifestyle had a club. Where a woman like me, who was firm in her beliefs, could find other like-minded people to associate with.
    But, fuck, it was hot. It barely ever changed and they didn’t have real seasons.
    Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall.
    Kind of hot. Hot. Hell. Hot rain.
    I could handle summer, warm weather, but I craved the bite of a cold snap. The crunch of snow under my feet. Boots. Wearing a scarf because I needed one, not because it was trendy and ironic, like in Hollywood.
    So while I did a good job, and loved the hospitality business, I’d secretly been pining away for a colder location to transfer to.
    It could be downright frigid in Chicago, but hopefully I’d already