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“A drink sounds so good!”
“Thirsty?” Troy quirks a brow, amused.
“I am in need of lube.”
“What was that?” Laughter lightens his voice.
“Drink is like lube. For social interactions.” I pull a face like he’s the crazy one.
Good Lord. As though getting dressed wasn’t torture enough. Watching him walk around in nothing but that low-slung towel just served to remind me how long it’s been since I last had sex. And how much longer it’s been since I had sex better than a bag of gummy bears.
On our way to the bar, Troy raises his hand in greeting, and my stomach gives a nasty lurch. I really hope I don’t see anyone I know. At least my dad won’t be here. He no longer pretends that charity is his thing.
At the bar, Troy loosens the single button of his slim-fitting tux. He looks like he could’ve stepped directly from the catwalk in Paris or Milan. Tall, handsome, and golden. All lean, elegant angles, and good enough to lick from head to toe.
“Champagne?”
“Yes, please.” I’ll stick to one. Maybe two. I don’t want to tempt the quenching of other thirsts. Troy orders himself a beer, and we turn for our designated table. “So your friends will be here? Max and the other founders?”
“Yep.”
“No pressure, then,” I whisper tremulously.
I suppress a shiver as Troy turns his lips to my ear. “You’re doing great.”
Good optics, I think as I tilt my face up to his. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
His mouth curves and, oh my, the butterflies. “No one’s expecting you to perform, Gretch. Just be yourself.”
I’m not sure anyone has ever said that to me before.
On the way to our table, we pause to allow an aproned server to go by. He stops, of course, and insists with a flourish that we should proceed first.
“This isn’t Gretchen’s scene. I’m not even sure it’s Sunny’s.” I never quite figured out formal silver service.
“This is Clara’s true place.”
“Is it?” I inhale a quick breath. “I’m not sure anymore.”
At our table, we find Max, the lawyer, is already there, wearing a tux and his perma-scowl. My stomach gives a little flip. I was a bit over the top the day we met. Though in my defense, Troy kind of set me up by sort of proposing. I reacted instinctively. The wrong instinct, as it turned out. No wonder he’s unimpressed.
“How’s it going?” He stands to greet us, and the men shake hands.
“Oh, good, thank you. We just got here.”
“I meant in general. This one driving you insane yet?”
A genuine question? I angle my head Troy’s way. Then give it a tiny bemused shake. “No, not yet.”
Troy pulls out my chair, the smile in his eyes now. “Where’s your date?”
“He couldn’t make it. On account of getting himself hitched this week.”
“Look at her, then look at you.” Troy shrugs. “There’s no competition.”
A genuine question and now a compliment.
I almost startle as Troy leans in for a sudden kiss. We’re jumping in with both feet on the PDA front, I think to myself. And while it’s just a peck, it does make those butterflies flutter. Doubly so when he leans in and kisses me again. Delicately at first, then a tiny bit less so, forcing my mouth, my mind, to yield.
