MORE COCKTAILS PLZ
I think I might’ve killed the mayor. Or, at the very least, broken him irrevocably.
From the moment I stepped out of the tiny bathroom in our hotel room, he hasn’t spoken a word. He took one look at me, and I swear his jaw audibly clicked shut. I’d be grateful for the reprieve, if it hadn’t made the elevator ride down so damn awkward.
I know the dress looks good—a deep emerald green with a high neck but no sleeves and a slim fit that ends in a ruffled flare at my knees. It highlights my figure in a way I’m proud of. But Adam’s behavior since he first saw me in it has me suspecting that they buried his grandmother in the very same one. That, or an ex owns it.
And that’s how I end up contemplating Adam’s dating life as a petite bartender shakes my first cosmo over her shoulder. It’s not something I ever wanted to consider, but here I am wondering what kind of woman he likes. If he likes women at all.
I arch a brow in his direction, where he’s currently studying the poor young woman like she might hold the answer to all his problems. Considering she’s pouring the only thing that’ll get me through this night with him unscathed, I get it. But still, Adam’s a yapper, and I’m starting to grow even more unnerved at his silence. I elbow his rib, and he jolts.
“Are we starting a tab or posting it to the room?”
He shakes his head, gaze focused somewhere over my shoulder. “Tab,” he croaks. Then, more clearly, “Alcohol isn’t an expensable item.”
“Even when it’s from a cocktail party held as part of the convention we’ve been sent to?”
His shoulders lift to his ears. “You could always have juice.”
Raven, according to the nametag on our bartender’s white button-up blouse, slides my cocktail across the counter. She returns my smile with one of her own, but it flattens as her gaze cuts to Adam. “What would you like, sir? I have cranberry or orange.”
He pauses, mouth ajar, the skin between his brows rumpled. “Huh?”
“Juice,” she clarifies. “I might even be able to scrounge up some apple?”
I cover my laugh with the rim of my cosmopolitan and take a sip. The corner of Adam’s mouth twitches, a hint of the man I know returning to the surface. Raven’s dark eyes glimmer with humor. I’m tempted to tell her I’m officially her biggest fan when Adam finally recovers enough to order an old fashioned.
“Why am I not surprised?” I say sardonically.
“What?” He scoffs, but still won’t fully meet my gaze. “I know you hate everything I do, but you can’t possibly find fault in such a classic drink choice.”
“Old fashioneds are the most pretentious of cocktails. Everyone knows it.” I set my glass on the counter and shift my weight, studying him carefully with pursed lips. “And I don’t hate everything you do.”
That gets his attention. He levels me with a suspicious glare. At least it’s eye contact. “Oh yeah? Name one thing.”
I tilt my head and tap my chin thoughtfully with my index finger. “There was that one time you took almost an entire month off from work. That was really nice.”
His gaze hardens. “I had mono.”
“Which is such a teenager’s disease. What, were you out kissing a bunch of people?”
“Enjoy, sir.” Raven places his glass on a cocktail napkin. “I’ll start that tab,” she adds pointedly, then slips away to help the next customer, officially tired of our antics.
“Person,” Adam says, as he takes his glass and turns to face the crowd milling around the bar. I follow his lead. The sun has fully disappeared, turning the surrounding windows into mirrors that reflect the room packed with men and women dressed to impress, chatting about nonsense over the sporadic cocktail tables throughout the space. He dips his chin. “That person, to be exact.”
He’s indicating a nearby table, where a tall woman—made taller by the stilettos she’s balancing on—is eyeing Adam from beneath what could only be lash extensions. Her skin is the color of porcelain and equally as pristine. Long, blonde hair trails over her shoulders in perfect waves. I grimace at my own frizzy curls, and the balayage that makes my brown hair at least somewhat interesting to look at. What shampoo is that woman using to get hair like that?
“I wasn’t aware they played spin the bottle at these things.” When my voice hits my ears, I can’t help but frown. I sound like a jealous girlfriend, when at best, I should be a disinterested coworker. I retrieve my drink from the counter and take a sip. Whatever this affliction is, I hope it can be cured by vodka.
He lets out a slightly amused chuff. “We dated for a bit. Met at last year’s conference, as a matter of fact. She’s the mayor of a small town up near Redding.”
Well, there’s that question answered. His type is a tall ice princess. Got it. “Why didn’t it work out?”
We’ve been staring too long, apparently, because she’s decided to head in our direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I note Adam scratching his stubble and drawing in a deep breath. “You’re about to find out.”
“Fantastic,” I mumble, just as the woman grows close enough to squeal, “Adammmmmm!”
“Alexandra,” he says, with much less zeal. He cranes his neck as she encircles him with her Pilates-toned arms. He meets my gaze with his gray eyes widened. “So nice to see you,” he adds through a gritted-teeth smile.
“And you! Oh, honey, look at you!” She pulls back to eye his ensemble. I have to admit, he’s objectively dapper. Dark tweed suit, crisp white button down with a faint herringbone stitching that I only noticed in the elevator when his refusal to talk had me studying him for lack of better entertainment. He’s gone for Oxfords in a rustic brown, and a gold watch flashes on his wrist where he’s bracing the hand holding his whiskey glass against her elbow. His sleeves have pulled back, exposing his wrist bone and the beginnings of dark arm hair that disappear beneath his cuff. What is it about wrist bones on a man that are so damn sexy? I drop my gaze, but not before noticing him mouthing honey exaggeratedly at me while Alexandra isn’t looking.
He laughs good-naturedly, then side steps the woman to place a hand on my shoulder. “I’d like you to meet Cora Bennet. She is the director of tourism for Heartsong, and recently spearheaded a campaign to win an improvement grant for our town.”
I wipe the condensation from my hand and offer it to her. “Nice to meet you, Alexandra…?”
“Dupree.” Her gaze slithers over me. When she finally accepts my handshake with a limp palm, her upper lip is slightly curled. “I thought this conference was for town leadership? You know, council members. City planners. Mayors.” She glances pointedly at Adam, then at the hand he’s left resting on my bare shoulder, which I become acutely aware of at the same moment.
I wet my lips, but before I can speak, Adam jumps in.
“There are few, if any, members of our council who have their thumb on the pulse of our town better than Cora. She alone is responsible for leading Heartsong into modern times with her initiatives to not only grow tourism but to improve life for our residents. Quite frankly, if that’s not leadership, I don’t know what is. I’d certainly follow her anywhere.”
He punctuates his speech with a genuine smile aimed right at me. It warms me like a spotlight, and I feel the heat creeping up my neck in response. I bloom with pride at his endorsement, my spine straightening, which makes me realize just how much I’d wilted from Alexandra’s snide comment. I love my job, and I’m damn good at it, too. The fact that Adam has noticed is just a cherry on top.
“Well, Adam. Glad to know it’s not just me. Seems you only know how to go for one type of woman,” she remarks, nostrils flaring.
I expect him to clarify that we are not a couple. That we’re coworkers who merely tolerate each other on the best of occasions, and combat like children on the worst. But he says nothing of the sort. Instead, his arm slides lower, finding that spot on my lower back that somehow floods me with warmth and drains me of it all at once. He flashes his most disarming smile directly at me and says, “Oh, don’t worry. Cora’s nothing like you.”
I can’t look away. Can’t even flinch for how deeply frozen I am on the outside. Internally, though? My mind is racing. Heart galloping. My stomach flips, and a delicious pulse between my legs has me aching.
No. This is absolutely not what I should be feeling for a coworker. For Adam Sullivan, no less. But his cool gray gaze, his soothing hand, and his words—solely meant to infuriate an ex who has long since stalked off—all have me reeling, anyway.
I swallow past the knot in my throat. His gaze dips to that spot, as though he can see the unraveling.
“Are you okay?”
My nod is pathetic. More of a twitch. I try to take a sip of my drink but come up empty. We both glance at the glass, then at each other, and I clear my throat. “Never better. I just need to hunt down our dear friend, Raven.”