You simply can’t match this small slice of peace. The Arden is one of the few spots in the hotel where I can escape and truly be alone for a few minutes. With the exception of parties, no one uses this space, so we should be safe from interruptions.
Once we’re both comfortable, I set down the drinks I ordered from the bar downstairs. “Okay, so free your mind. This isn’t whiskey. Amaro’s traditionally served as a digestif, but we use this particular variety as an aperitif, to cleanse the palette before a meal and open up the tastebuds.”
Kellin sips as he reclines, a small, contemplative frown on his lips. “I don’t hate it.”
I laugh. Such a man answer.
He steals another sip. “It’s…spicy.”
“Chef Moreau ships it in from a small winery outside Florence. This amaro’s made from grapes, bitter herbs, aromatic bark, cardamom. Some are sweet, but not this one. We add the orange peel mostly for show.”
“No, I like it this way. I think my favorite thing about it is?—”
“That it looks like rye whiskey?”
He snorts. “I was going to say that it’s not sweet at all. You think of liqueurs as those sticky, foo-foo type drinks.”
“So, what you’re saying is this drink is masculine enough for you?” I tease. “Your partners won’t harass you if they catch you drinking it?”
“My partners?”
I raise a brow at his apparent confusion. “At Zenith.”
“Oh.” He averts his attention to the amaro, as if he suddenly finds the liqueur truly fascinating. “I think they’d approve. Does the Cypress have an extensive variety of wines from around the world too? My partners will definitely be interested in that.” Kellin crosses one leg over the other, shifting toward me.
I taste my own amaro to distract myself from the prickle along my neck. I’m not even sure why I feel this way. “We do.We’ve really built up our selection since hiring Moreau. He and I both prefer the prestige and pedigree of European vintages, so most of the Cypress’s collection comes from overseas. Old World wine. Aged in French oak barrels. Bordeaux, Chianti, Champagne that’s actually from the Champagne region in Northern France. No imposters inside these walls.”
“You’re beaming, you know.”
Am I? Suddenly self-conscious, I touch my cheeks. “It’s probably the alcohol. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
Kellin inches closer. “Or it’s because you’re talking about what you love.”
“Maybe.” I clear my throat. “The sommelier and our wine selection, like our chef, don’t come cheap. But I think they help us stand out.” Kellin’s proximity floods my nerve endings with awareness. I scoot away to clear the sudden fuzziness from my head. “The ocean air doesn’t hurt either. Or cost a thing.”
“I think management plays a role in the appeal.” Kellin studies me pointedly, his gaze feathering over my skin like a light breeze.
My cheeks burn, both from the compliment and his attention. “This was a nice idea.”
Kellin smiles, just a little, hiding the expression behind his drink. “Everyone needs a break, even when you love what you do. It’s important to recharge. Though it’s nice to see you light up whenever you talk about the Cypress.”
I scoff into my glass. “Did I mention we need a new boiler? And there’s a leak in one of the suites? An impending wedding? Am I lighting up like a Christmas tree now?” As much as I do appreciate a moment of respite, I can never quite escape the chaos.
While I love this hotel, battling to stay on top of everything all the timeisexhausting.
Kellin shakes his head. “Stressors aside, I’m envious of your passion toward your career.”
“Aren’t you passionate about yours?” Hunting down investments isn’t exactly my idea of fun, but to each their own.
Kellin sets his drink down, his fingerprints disrupting the condensation on the glass. “Some projects are more enjoyable than others.”
He stares out over the railing, arms on his thighs, hands loose. At first glance, he appears relaxed, but I notice the way his eyes flicker, the downward twitch of his lips…
He’s frustrated.
My stomach flutters around my drink. Does he consider this project one of the more enjoyable ones? Or less? Does he regret our growing involvement over these past few days?
I down the rest of my amaro. Lingering on Kellin’s thoughts will be as fruitful as trying to drown a fish.
