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She slides one across the table to me and I shoot her a glare. “I’m not done with this one!”
She rolls her eyes and downs her glass before picking up the fresh one. “I’m not buzzed and I need to be.” She pops a piece of cheese in her mouth.
“Ladies,” I hear from behind me and when I turn around, I see Mr. Beckham standing there holding a highball glass of what looks like the sangria from Marissa’s pregame. “You both look lovely. Very festive,” he says nodding at us both.
I look him over and give him a smile over my glass. “You do too. I like your tie.” I point at his red tie that is peppered with silver snowflakes. It’s the only pop of color amidst his black suit and white shirt.
“I thought about wearing a Santa suit but thought that may be a little over the top.”
Marissa snorts into her drink and clears her throat. “Sorry.”
I do my best not to glare at her before turning back to him. “Maybe a little bit.” I don’t know what to say, but I know I don’t want him to leave even if we are just engaging in mindless small talk. “What are you drinking?” I point at his drink.
“Ah, one of the festive cocktails. A cranberry bourbon sour.”
“Is it good?”Be more lame, Raegan, PLEASE.
“It’s not bad,” he holds out his glass towards me and my eyes widen at his implication. “Do you want to try it?”
Yes! Try it! He wants to share his drink with you! HOT.“No, that’s okay.” I chuckle. “I’m not really a bourbon drinker anyway.”
“Ah, to be twenty-one again.” He chuckles and I narrow my gaze at him.
“I’ll be twenty-two next month, thank you very much.” I giggle and he smiles, revealing that dimple again and I lock my knees to prevent them from buckling.
“Any big plans?”
“My dad usually takes my brother and I to Aspen to go skiing, but we haven’t really talked about it this year.”
“You ski?” he asks.
I nod. “I do ski. My parents had me and my brother on the slopes at a very young age.”
“Well, on our next company winter retreat, I’ll have to see your skills.”
“Miss Graham, Miss Collins,” I hear, and then I see Christopher Holt, the CFO forBeckham Securitieswho seems to be a close friend of Mr. Beckham. I know he’s younger but I’m not sure by how much and while I don’t think he’s nearly as good looking as Mr. Beckham, he certainly is no stranger to female attention either. “Wes, can I steal you for a second?”
“Is it absolutely necessary?” He glares at Christopher and I turn my gaze to Marissa, so it doesn’t seem like I’m trying to be nosy.
“It issss,” he drawls before turning him away from our table.
“Okay, he was totally flirting!” Marissa says as soon as they’re out of earshot.
I stare after them, watching as Christopher laughs about something and slaps him on the back as they leave the room entirely. I frown, wondering where he’s going before turning back to Marissa. “He offered you his drink! That joke about the Santa suit? It wasn’t even funny. I laughed because he attempted to make a joke…to makeyoulaugh. Oh, this is freaking good TV,” she says. “Let’s get you some hard liquor. The champagne isn’t cutting it and you need to loosen up.”
“I am loose!”
“No, but maybe some Grey Goose will help.” She does a shimmy, referring to that familiar Fergie song and hands me my clutch as she drags me towards the bar. “And then the winter retreat thing? Rae, we don’t even haaaave a winter retreat! He’s probably going to create one just for an excuse to ski with you! I am watching your romance justblossomin front of me!” She giggles as we make it to the bar where she orders us each a vodka soda. “Make hers a double.” She points at me.
“Marissa!” I protest.
She ignores me and hands me the glass, which I already know has way more vodka than soda and I scrunch my nose before I squeeze at least three limes in it.
“You’re lucky I got you out of there when I did. You wait until you’ve got the whole fucking office staring at you to choose to stare at your assistant like you want to rip her clothes off?” Chris says as we step onto the heated patio and he hands me a cigar. I shake my head as he lights his and puts it to his lips.
“Fuck.” I groan as I take a long sip of my drink which isn’t half bad for flavored whiskey. “Was it that obvious?”
“I don’t know, everyone is starting to feel their drinks, so maybe no one noticed but I know you, andIcould tell.”
