She shrugged and reached for her drink. He couldn’t help watching her full red lips press against the glass as the amber liquid slipped down her throat.
Wait. Amber?
He glanced at his drink. It was pink. He raised his brows at her.
“Sorry.” She didn’t sound it and he couldn’t help grinning. He liked her sass. “Brian thinks he’s cute giving me that drink. It has grapefruit in it. I hate grapefruit.” She took another sip of his drink.
He wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t blame her for the theft. At all. “Grapefruit is nasty. Why does he make it for you?”
She pointed at the cocktail. “It’s called a Paloma.”
“You’re named after a drink?”
“Yup. According to my parents, I was conceived on a wild vacation in Mexico when my mom discovered the drink.”
Max chuckled. “I thought it was after Pablo Picasso’s daughter.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Figured maybe your parents were into art. Back in high school, our senior year, you were in my art class. And way more talented than me.”
“Thanks.” She smiled, and he was positive it was the first genuine one during their conversation. It was beautiful. “Not that I’ve drawn or painted for fun in years.”
“But your job is creative. You’re an interior designer, right?”
She tilted her head. “How’d you know?”
When she and Asher first got together, he’d mentioned they’d met while he’d been building a house she was designing. But for some reason, Max didn’t want his friend in his conversation with Paloma.
“We live in a small town,” Max said. “Isn’t it a prerequisite to know everyone’s business?”
She groaned. “Ugh. It is.” Picking up his drink, she swirled it, then took a sip. Setting it down, she said, “You, um, I don’t know what it’s called, but you design landscapes.”
Warmth spread through his chest that she knew what he did for a living, but even so, he couldn’t hold in a grin. “Landscape architect. Yup, for homes and businesses.”
She stared at him for a full three seconds or so, then blinked and said, “Wow, you have a really nice smile.”
He dropped his gaze to his stolen drink. “Oh, uh, thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Don’t tell me the guy who designs million dollar gardens gets flustered over a simple compliment,” she teased
“I don’t—” He fiddled with the paper umbrella in his glass of her old drink. “They’re not million dollar gardens.”
She took another sip of his drink, peering at him over the rim. “So half million then? And you’re still avoiding the compliment part.”
His face burned hot enough to match her dress. “I design functional outdoor spaces that—” He caught her raised eyebrow and stopped himself. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“Hiding behind work talk? Yup.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “But it’s kind of adorable.”
A laugh escaped his recently clenched jaw. When had his dark mood slipped away?
“And your workisoutstanding,” she finished.
He sat up taller. “Oh, and how do you know?”
“I decorated one of Asher’s builds. During our final walk-through with the client, the landscaping was finished. Later, when I saw Asher I mentioned how impressed I was with the design. He told me your company had done the work.”
Forget his chest warming—it was damn near swelling with pride. “Thanks.” He swirled his new pink drink and took a small sip. He grunted as the sweet and sour flavors hit his tongue. “This isn’t too bad. The tequila masks most of the grapefruit taste.”
