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“And no matter how old you get, you’ll always be much younger than me, so you have that going for you.”
I chuckle. “That is technically true. What are you up to now? Forty-one? Forty-two?”
His jaw drops. “Thirty-five.”
“Oh…” I tease with a smirk. “My mistake.”
He brushes it off, not really offended in the first place. “And hell, you’ve probably got me beat in experience as well at this point,” he says. “There’s a bar in every Botsford Plaza around the world. My stories can’t possibly compare to yours after traveling around for five years.”
I look down at my drink. “No, you work at a hotel in Las Vegas,” I say, deflecting. “You’ve probably got me beat, to be honest.”
“Nope.”
“Yes.”
Oliver waves his hand at Ned the bartender as he passes by. “Two more of these, please,” he says.
“No,” I say. “One drink. We said one drink.”
“No, this just got interesting,” he says as Ned sets two fresh bottles out and pops the caps off. “I want you to tell me about your wildest international Botsford hook-up.”
I scoff as my cheeks burn. “No. I’m not doing that.”
“Oh, come on, Paige,” he says. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“I don’t want to see yours.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
He cants his head, amused. “Admit it. You kinda do.”
“No!” I laugh a little too hard, ruining my credibility. “I don’t.”
“Paige Landon, I am your boss and I demand you tell me a sordid tale of some young, foreign stranger ravaging you until dawn.”
I squint. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about this request seems highly inappropriate.”
“And that’s why it’s fun.” Oliver smiles. “Come on, old friend. Let’s catch up. Last we spoke, you were on your way to Rome. Did you ever find yourself that Centurion?”
For a moment, I’m not sure how to respond. The way he said it, as if we really were old friends catching up after a long time away from each other. Maybe we are.
Maybe we can be.
“No,” I answer. “I never did.”
“How about in Paris, then?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“London?” He smiles. “You seem like a girl who’d go wild for a guy with an accent.”
“You’re not wrong about that, but… no. I’ve never hooked up with a Londoner, either.”
Oliver bites his lip, curious. “Where was the last place you did hook-up? Seattle? New Orleans?” He chuckles. “No one goes to New Orleans and doesn’t get laid.”
I hide behind my drink as I raise it to my lips again. After a long sip, I let it settle in my stomach, hoping for it to loosen my tongue a little more. “Never hooked up in New Orleans, either, no.”
