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“All good,” I reassure her, with a carefully neutral tone. Nothing to see here. “Grace is a solid date. Nice, smart. Your professional instincts were spot-on.”
“She’s working out then?” Olivia presses. “A good dancer? Pulling off the mingling?”
“Yep,” I say. Against my will, my brain flashes the memory Grace’s sly grin, looking up from the pool table. “Great. Cute, feisty, easy to talk to.”
“How cute? How feisty?” Olivia narrows her eyes as me. “You’re keeping things professional, I hope?”
Oh my God, does sheknow?
I cough.
“I’m a grown man, Olivia,” I tell her. “Why does everyone think I can’t keep it in my pants?”
Maybe because I don’t want to…
“Who’s everyone?” Olivia asks, one eyebrow raised.
“Nobody,” I say quickly. “Everything’s fine. In fact, I should probably call and finalize the details for our next event.”
Olivia regards me, still suspicious. “Well, lucky for you, I’m off to a client meeting. Keep me updated. And don’t forget—”
“The birthday party and cake pickup in a few weeks,” I finish. “It’s on my calendar.”
“Okay…” she calls over her shoulder. “Love you, be good!”
The door shuts behind her, and I slump into her abandoned bar seat. Jesus. Did the universe send up some kind of alert beacon the moment I made out with Grace?
Clearly, I need to get my shit together—and I need to work on my poker face.
“These just arrived for you.” Marco materializes with a couple of delivery boxes.
I’m expecting more bar stuff, but it’s a couple of costume rentals he ordered for some of the upcoming events.
“And this is for… ?” Marco eyes the weird medieval outfit with a smirk.
“RenFaire,” I sigh. “And yes, costumes are mandatory.”
“They sent Grace’s too,” Marco adds, checking the delivery slip. “Want me to courier them over to her?”
I pause.
This weird semi-awkward silence is what’s causing all the problems, I decide. The sooner we clear the air and get back to normal, everything will be fine.
My concentration will be back.
“It’ll be faster if I do it,” I find myself replying. “And Grace probably needs to try on the dress as soon as possible, in case it needs last-minute alterations.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Marco saunters away.
I grab the boxes and head for the door. The sooner I can see Grace again, the sooner my subconscious will get a clue and move on from these pesky fantasies. Plus, this is official wedding business.
Important, urgent wedding business.
That’s all.
Right?
9
