“Of course. We have a variety. A lot of the elderly patrons request those.” He winked salaciously at me, and I tilted my head, wondering if he meant it as an insult.
Was he sharing some big secret that old biddies liked liquor? One of my favorite drinks was Amaretto Sour, so what did that say about me? Was I an old soul, or was my palate too delicate to appreciate the nuances of Fireball and Red Bull?
Salty.
Damn. My mood was a downer. I forced myself to smile at the bartender, watching as he adjusted his white button-up shirt cuffed at the elbows and then flexed his forearms. “Could you add a little to this, please?” I held the glass to him, watching the bubbles cascade along the sides with the movement of my wrist.
He nodded and turned to the bottles behind him, finding the elderflower and taking the glass to add the liquor. I took a five out of my clutch and put it in the tip jar, refusing to glance at my phone to check the time. I held the stem between my fingers and walked to the end of the bar, leaning on a giant white pillar that looked like it belonged in a Roman Colosseum and not a swanky hotel downtown.
My dress was itchy, and I used the opportunity to lean against the pillar to find the spot directly between my shoulder blades that was giving me such trouble. This garment was perfect for just such an occasion, but when I tried it on with Marietta, I hadn’t worn it long enough for the scratchy material to reveal its true colors.
The blue satin and tulle hugged my curves and had a strapless sweetheart neckline, making undergarments a moot point. It felt scandalous not wearing anything underneath the dress, but it was also empowering, having a little secret that was all mine. The bustier bodice and thigh-high slit made the overall effect of the dress beautiful, but the hidden hook-and-eye back zipper rubbed my skin the wrong way.
It was like a little gnat I couldn’t squish, and I moaned, flexing my shoulders so the column put pressure on the itchy spot. Luckily, no one noticed my shameless rubbing, but it madethings clearer why this dress was on sale. I finally gave in to the urge to check my phone, balancing my clutch in the crook of my arm, only to be disappointed when I saw it had barely been ten minutes since I last checked the time.
In a clear display of my self-inflicted suffering, I opened my test messages and found myself unable to tear my eyes away from Miller’s name. My thumb hovered over the screen as the temptation to text him reared its ugly head once again—only the three-hundred-and-ninety-fourth time since I told him to go away two nights ago.
So, overall, an improvement.
Stop.His words were biting and cruel—he should be the one to break the silence first. No matter how upset he was, even suggesting that I was embarrassed to have him by my side was uncalled for. I thought maybe I was overreacting because of my frayed nerves, but after talking with Bev, it became glaringly eye-opening that we both had issues that had to be dealt with.
Eye-opening in the sense that my feelings for Miller werewaymore complicated and intense than I thought. A simple apologetic text wouldn’t fix this. He needed to feel cherished—needed to be with someone whoshowedhim how they felt.
I needed another drink.
“Cut it out,” I murmured, shaking my head and taking one step away from the column. I had to dropkick this attitude in the stones. The exit doors mocked me, and I straightened my shoulders, pushing a curl that had escaped my chignon off my forehead. I counted to thirty, then eyed the large space, looking for an escape.
My reprieve came in the form of two large glass doors leading to an open balcony. The gauzy, taupe curtains were ruffling gently from the cross breeze, and I smiled—my first real one of the night—as I made my way over.
The evening breeze felt amazing on my overheated skin, and I breathed in, letting the scent of gardenias and honeysuckle fill my lungs. One heel had made it to the balcony when a firm grip wrapped around my elbow. My breath halted, and I stuttered, tugging my arm away from the pressure.
“Whoa, there, pretty lady.”
It couldn’t be.
I glanced at my feet, zeroing in on the one black leather wingtip that was in my line of vision. Truly, I must have offended some sort of voodoo warrior princess because I recognized that voice. I’d heard that voice in my dreams and listened as that voice growled filthy words in my ear. My only reprieve from this situation was that the balcony was shadowed. If he’d caught me in the middle of the ballroom, there’d be no way to hide the heat radiating off my skin.
My shoulders dropped, and I tugged my arm again, only to be met with more resistance and a tightening grip. Nothing hard enough to leave marks or hurt me—just enough to be reminded that I wasn’t alone.
Alone.
I was better off alone. Forget the man who held my arm. I just needed to make it through tonight, and then I could wallow in safari pajamas and reruns on Animal Planet.
“Miller.” His name fell from my mouth like an answered prayer, and I bit my lip until I tasted blood, knowing the universe was mocking me in some sick way with his presence.
“I couldn’t let you come alone,” he whispered, leaning close enough for me to feel his breath tickle my ear. I swallowed, the noise harsh and audible in the evening air. “Not after the way we left things—the wayIleft things, baby.”
Please. Not now.
“What are you doing here?” I pleaded, yanking my arm hard enough to break his grasp. I stepped back, clenching my fistsand almost losing my balance. Warm, strong hands surrounded me, steadying me toward his chest. His smell—woodsy and masculine, invaded my senses and sent my stomach into somersaults. “And what are you wearing?”
My thoughts were a fuzzy, jumbled nightmare. I needed to compartmentalize with color-coded cue cards before my feelings were laid bare. He deserved more than a hasty conversation while my boss looked on for yet another opportunity to criticize.
Damn it, but he felt so good, tugging me closer until my chin rested on his shoulder. My chest ached, the part where he fit perfectly against me made my pulse race. Perhaps this was meant to be. Some grander plans the universe concocted to bring us together because we were both too idiotic to have a simple conversation.
Him. Me. Us. There was nothing simple about it.
Why was he here? Perhaps he had a believable excuse about rescuing kittens in trees or having his weekly volunteer day of tagging endangered great white sharks running longer than expected. We’d laugh, and I’d squeeze his muscular arm in understanding before watching him saunter to the bar to get us drinks.
