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She winked at me. “I think we’re all lucky for that.”
After a moment or two and Miles slipping her my business card, we wandered away, trying to catch a waiter carrying canapes. All the trays had been cleaned out. The bar on the far side of the spacious room was my only hope.
“Okay, if I can’t eat, I’m getting a drink. Think they have pink lemonade?”
His hand slid down my back, resting just above the curve of my ass. “Let’s go find out.”
“Are you sure? I can get drinks for both of us.”
He cupped my elbows and pinned me with a hard stare. “I’m not going to vault over the bar and guzzle a liter of vodka. To be honest, I’m pretty solid in my sobriety tonight, and having you with me certainly helps that.” He stepped into me, his hand leaving my elbow to return to the small of my back. “You don’t worry about me when we’re at these things. It’s my job to worry about you, Daisy…what’s your middle name again?”
“Wha—?” I lifted my eyes to his. He wasn’t getting me to say it. Once had been enough. “I don’t have one.”
“Lies.” His eyes narrowed. “You do have one. You told me it once. Daisy Eth—”
“Don’t say it,” I warned.
“It’s either I say it or I commit light torture.”
I shimmied my shoulders to distract him. “And what if I like a little light torture?”
He groaned. “Daisy Devil. That suits you better than Ethel.”
“Okay, sure. We’ll go with that.” I nodded toward the bar, still partially hidden by several layers of people. “Weren’t we grabbing a drink?”
“Were we?”
I slipped my arm through his. “Come on, Spreadsheet. I’m parched.”
We wove through the crowd, finally making it to the bar, and stopped short.
My girl Bea was tending bar in a white button-down and bowtie. I almost hadn’t recognized her with her thick, chestnut hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
“Bea! You’re a brunette.”
She tugged a clump of strands. ‘It’s a wig.”
I leaned my elbows on the bar. “It looks good on you.”
“I prefer the blue, but this job doesn’t let me have unnaturally dyed hair, so here we are.” Her gaze flicked to Miles then back to me. “You hanging out with Preppy?”
“Miles knows where all the free food and drinks are,” I hedged. I didn’t want anyone to know about my near-future plans, so there was no need to explain why I’d begun hanging out with him. “So, this is your second job?”
“Or my first, depending on how you look at it. I’m on call with the catering company whenever they need me.”
“Good money?”
“Better than retail, but not as good as Nick’s. That’s why I like these events during the week. I can still take my Friday and Saturday night waitressing shifts.”
“Hope you make bank tonight.” I drummed my nails on the glass countertop. “By any chance do you have pink lemonade back there?”
“Hmmm…” She tapped her chin. “Will you settle for yellow?”
I huffed. “If I have to, but I won’t be happy about it.”
“Complaint department closed,” she deadpanned.
Miles snickered as he wound his arm around my waist from behind. He was good at this fake boyfriend thing. I couldn’t say what I’d expected from him when I’d agreed to this idea, but I didn’t think it was this. That might have been because I’d spent the last seven years with a man deathly allergic to even mild public displays of affection. Andy might have held my hand on Valentine’s Day and my birthday, but that was a stretch. Miles hadn’t stopped touching some part of me all evening, and I had found myself joining in on the action.
