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As Jessie wandered off, my jaw clenched. I downed my whiskey and was crossing the room before I knew exactly what I was doing. Olive was half-way through some story about hiking the Andes mountain when I approached the group.
I tapped her arm, and she paused and gave me a smile. "Oh, hey." Her hand slid up my arm, an affectionate gesture that had the single men in the group do a double take as they sipped at their drinks.
This was odd.
She no longer looked like the Olive outside who'd seemed taken aback by the whole evening. Instead, she fit in perfectly.
"Can I talk to you for a second?"
She touched her chest and set her drink on the table. "Of course."
"Hurry back, Mallory!" one of the younger men called. "I need to hear the rest of that story."
Even her laugh didn't sound like Olive.
I led her to a corner of the living room off the side of the bar, where there were less people and paused by the back door.
But Olive didn't stop. Her smile pressed into her cheeks, and she grabbed my hand. "Come on."
"What are you doing?"
She pushed open the door and lifted a finger to her lips. "Shh."
I had no choice but to follow her. We emerged into a massive kitchen with comfortable breakfast nook and a spiral staircase that led to the second floor. She dropped my hand and darted for the fridge.
"Olive, seriously? What are you doing?"
The fridge door closed, and she spun around, holding a bottle of champagne in her hand.
"Put that down."
Her smile only widened as she passed the bottle of champagne between her hands. "I know you want some."
"No, I don't. Can you just stop for a second?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Well, you're no fun." She gripped the bottle like a football and prepared to toss it to me. Nope.
I stomped across the living room and yanked the bottle out of her hand. "Why are you acting like this?"
She stumbled backward. "I was just trying to get you to loosen up."
"Well, that's a twenty thousand dollar bottle of champagne, so maybe you don't open it—or worse, drop it."
"How do you know what it's worth?"
I slid past her and put the bottle back in the fridge. "Because I bought it." I didn't normally flaunt my wealth like that—in fact, in front of women, I tried to dumb it down—but nothing was getting through to her.
When I turned around, her arms were crossed. "So that's what happened to you to the last ten years? You came into money and became a dick?"
My pulse raced. "Well, I'd rather be a dick than be bi-polar."
Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
I pointed at the door. "What the fuck was that out there? Mallory Jensen who climbs the Andes. Who goes cave diving? Is there another personality in there I don't know about?"
She glared at me. "I thought this is what you wanted."
"I wanted Olive, not whatever the fuck that was."
