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Before I can answer, she’s tugging me away from Austin toward the bar. Tipsy Lanie McClintock is drawing me in like we’re gal pals. Part of me is amused, and part of me is very nervous about making a good impression. Austin’s business could be riding on this, after all.
“Delicious,” I say, sincerely, after I take my first sip. “Mm. Oh, wow. This could be dangerous for me.”
“Right?” Lanie says. Then she cozies in a little more. “So, I’m dying to know. You and the boss man are kind of vibey. Are the two of you…?”
“Oh no,” I say, probably too forcefully. “No, no. He’s great. But no.”
“Shame,” she says, lifting one shoulder into a shrug. Then, with a little wink-wink-nudge-nudge elbow to my side, “Not a bad view for the workplace though, is it? He’s a grade-A beefcake. I love a jock type who could throw you around a little. I mean, clearly—look at Mac.”
I know she means this as a compliment. But I don’t love hearing Austin talked about like he’s a sirloin or a Chippendale.
“He’s a handsome guy,” I agree, carefully. “But I actually forget that sometimes. Isn’t that so funny? He’s so sharp and perceptive—so interesting to talk to that his looks are…”
“Like a de Gournay wallpaper,” Lanie finishes, nodding sagely.
I blink at her. I’m not entirely sure what that means.
“Stunning,” she clarifies. “But if you’re doing something interesting enough in the room, the gorgeous view fades to the background. That’s how I feel about Mac.”
“Okay,” I agree slowly. She’s such a trip. I truly cannot wait to tell Millie about this conversation. “And Austin’s really onto something with his company,” I can’t help adding. We are still pitching, after all. “He sees the big picture in such an energizing way. I know I work for him, but I’d honestly say that even if I didn’t.”
Lanie regards me with a head-tilt. “You’re sweet, you know that? I like you.”
“Umm, thanks?”
“Uh-oh, am I going to have to carry you back to the hotel?”
When I turn, Austin is right behind me, so close, he reaches out to steady me when I jolt in surprise. His hands linger on my arms.
His eyes crinkle at the edges, smiling down at me.
“Carry me?” I echo dumbly, flooded with images of just that.
Because he could. Pick me up. Throw me over his broad shoulders and take me straight to bed—
“Didn’t you say you were a two-drink max kind of woman?” he asks, nudging the cocktail in my hand.
“Oh. Right. Hahahaha!” I laugh way too loudly to cover my racing pulse. “You’re right.”
Thankfully, Mac interrupts us, draping an arm around Lanie’s shoulder. “Babe,” he squeezes her. “The Perfect Match pop-up needs you for five, then we’ve got the influencer slumber party.”
“Talk tomorrow?” she asks, then leaves in a whirl of air kisses.
I take a big gulp of my cocktail, then realize, I’m left alone with Austin. I really don’t need my head spinning anymore, so I trade it for a water bottle, and resist the urge to upend it over my head.
Distraction. I need distraction from those arms. It shouldn’t be hard in a place like this, right?
“We should go to a show,” I blurt out.
“Sure,” he agrees. “I think Welcome Wagon is about to go on. You up for it?”
I only know one or two of their songs, but that’s more than I can say for most of the bands here. “Definitely. Let’s do it.”
We make our way to the main stage as the band starts to play, a kind of upbeat dance pop rock. The energy in the crowd is contagious. Most people are a solid decade younger than Austin and me, but everyone dances with abandon, and soon we’re swept up in the buzz.
It’s a relief, getting into the music and letting go like this. If I can dance out all this sexual tension, maybe I can keep myself from doing something stupid.
Like reaching for Austin. Touching him. Kissing him.
