6. Penny #2
Her heart stopped for a fraction of a second, the busy room around her instantly dissolving into a blurred background.
She stared, her pulse executing a wild, frantic leap in her chest as her gaze locked onto Martin.
He was holding an armful of chilled drinks, looking incredibly handsome in the golden light of the rafters.
He had traded his usual structured, neutral-toned office wear for a pair of fitted denim jeans that hugged his thighs, and a pair of worn brown leather cowboy boots.
He wore a crisp plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his toned, muscular forearms, and a rustic straw cowboy hat was perched at a rakish angle over his hair.
Without warning, he turned his head, his sharp eyes searching the path through the crowd until they met hers across the wide room. The moment their gazes locked, his handsome face split into the most alluring, genuine smile she had ever seen.
"Breathe," Isabel whispered playfully, her shoulder nudging Penny’s side as they navigated past a stack of decorated tables. "You're turning blue."
She was right. Penny had not even realized she was holding her breath, her chest feeling so tight it ached.
She dragged a slow, deep lungful of air into her chest, forcing her shoulders to relax as she tried to maintain some semblance of professional decorum.
She concentrated on her footing, trying to steady her erratic heart, which was currently beating so hard against her ribs she was sure it was going to break a bone.
They moved forward through the crowd, the kids leading the way like a small, triumphant escort.
Penny was so thoroughly distracted by the man waiting for her that she barely registered the physical display when Owen immediately stepped up to meet them, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against Isabel's lips.
She heard the chorus of general greetings echoing around them, but the words felt distant and muffled, and she didn't even remember if she managed to greet anyone back.
Her focus was locked on Martin as he stepped away from the table to meet her.
"Hey, gorgeous," Martin greeted her, his voice low and intimate over the swell of the bluegrass fiddle. "Darius mentioned you preferred a dry white wine, so..."
He reached out, holding a chilled glass of wine toward her.
Penny didn't even remember reaching out her hand to take it. Her fingers brushed against his as her hand closed around the cool stem of the glass, and a sharp, electric jolt rushed straight up her arm, sending a wave of intense heat flooding to her core.
"Hi," Penny managed to croak out, her voice sounding breathless and thick with emotion. She squeezed her fingers slightly around the glass, her gaze refusing to break from his kind, dancing eyes. "Thank you."
Isabel’s loud, good-natured groan broke Penny out of her trance.
She turned her head, reluctantly pulling her gaze away from the electric shimmer of Martin’s eyes, and looked over at her friend.
Isabel was currently gesturing toward the bold, custom adhesive backing on Linda's shirt, her face lined with a playful disbelief.
"I see you're all wearing these things," Isabel grumbled, her dark eyes scanning the matching letters.
"Oh, yes," Linda said, her lips curving into a dry, knowing smile as she adjusted her collar. "But this is actually nothing compared to the last festival. During those games, they forced us to wear shirts that read, 'Let's hear it for our fearless captains.'"
"Unbelievable," Isabel said, though her voice carried a clear thread of humor that blunted the complaint. "Where is the sticker that celebrates what an amazing team we actually have backing them up?"
"It's ambiguous," Emma answered, looking up from her mug of hot chocolate with a highly serious, scholarly expression.
"Praising the captains simply means they had an incredibly strong team backing them.
It's a structural hierarchy. By celebrating the leadership, you're implicitly validating the strength of the whole unit. "
Isabel blinked, her brow furrowing as she stared down at her granddaughter. "That makes no sense at all."
"Of course it does," Penny argued, stepping in to support the young girl's logic with a confident grin. "It is standard corporate strategy. You highlight the strength of the administration to emphasize the capability of the whole firm."
Isabel turned, her eyes narrowing as she studied her friend's face. "That sounds very much like something a corporate lawyer would say to dodge a direct question."
"What?" Penny laughed, her shoulders tensing in mock offense as her fingers tightened around the cool stem of her wine glass. "What exactly are you saying?"
"That technical gibberish sounds like something you'd use in a courtroom to baffle a jury," Isabel countered, raising a single, dark eyebrow with a triumphant, teasing look.
"It is pure team spirit," Penny grinned back, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she smoothed down the edges of the adhesive paper on her shirt. "Pure team spirit."
"Alright, then," Isabel said, shaking her head in good-natured defeat, though she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.
"Here," Penny said, reaching over to the wooden table where Martin had placed the drink tray. She picked up a second chilled glass of white wine and handed it over. "Have some wine. It will help you forget the pretty blue sticker on your shirt."
"This is bright blue, and I’m sure it's made of glow-in-the-dark stuff." Isabel lifted her shirt to examine the sticker.
"Well..." Maggie looked guilty. "It might light up a little in the dark."
"Oh no!" It was Owen's turn to groan and hit his forehead. "Please tell me you didn’t."
"At least it’s not the yellow this time," Maggie said with a shrug.
"Yellow?" Isabel looked at them.
"Yes, they could basically see us from space that night," Martin added. "In fact, we were so bright the stars in the sky were jealous of us."
Everyone laughed and glanced at their stickers.
"Great," Isabel said.
Before anyone could say another word, Pete took over the microphone, asking everyone to take their seats as it was time to start the awards ceremony.