Page 310 of A Taste of Vanilla

I lean against the bar as she withdraws her hand. “What can I get you, Ms. Rhodes?”

She looks around the room again.

“Your bar,” she says smoothly.

The noise in the room dips. Somewhere behind me, Halston inhales.

I blink once. “No.”

Matilda tilts her head. “You don’t know what I’m offering.”

“I know what I’m refusing.”

For the first time, something real flickers behind the polished face.

Grief. Exhaustion, maybe panic?

There and gone so fast most people would miss it.

But I don’t tend to miss things.

Someone shifts behind her, pushing past the bodyguards.

She sighs. “My father’s team needs a new public image,” she says.

Three players look down, the room sobering.

“Your bar is where half of them come when they want to act human,” she continues. “I need that.”

I stare at her.

“Lady, I don’t even like baseball.”

Her smile returns. This time, it’s not pretty.

“Then I guess we have something in common.”

My expression darkens before I can stop it.

She leans closer across the bar. “I don’t like it much right now either.”

I set a glass down in front of her. “What’s your drink?”

She looks at me like no one has asked her something that simple in weeks. Maybe they haven’t. Maybe someone like her is always handed assumptions before they are handed choices.

Her mouth parts.

Then closes.

“Champagne.”

My mouth flattens. “This is a bar in Baltimore, not a yacht.”

A player coughs into his fist.

Halston nudges me.

Matilda lifts one perfect brow. “Do you have champagne or not?”