Page 157 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

Slick would be in New York one week out of every month. He’d still travel with George. Would they share a hotel bed? Would they drink a little too much one night, forcing George to crash in his suite?

They’d share dinners and cab rides.

He’d be talking to Lorelei on the phone, and George would whisper in the background, toss one-liners into the conversation. Maybe he’d be in bed, while George was in the bathroom.

It was their habit to hook up when they were together, so why would it change?

After all, George was in a separate category.

Panic clawed at her throat. “Excuse me.” She got up.

“Everything okay?” Booker started to push back his chair.

She set her hand on his shoulder. “Stay. It’s fine. I just left my phone inside, and I want it with me in case Stevie needs me. Be right back.” As she wove her way around the tables, she glanced at Noa to make sure her friend was having fun. She and Ginty were laughing and talking to some guests. Happy, carefree. Wildly in love.

Her friend’s day had gone perfectly.Thank God.

She stepped outside to find the sun had gone down behind the mountain, filling the valley with shadows. Stevie was sleeping at her grandparents’ house tonight, which was good because Lorelei’s brain was revving. She needed to hide out in her room for a few minutes, pull herself together, but she didn’t want Booker to come looking for her.

Where could she go? She thought of her conservatory, but he’d think of that.

The kitchen was a hive of activity as the staff replenished platters of food. And she couldn’t cross it because if Chef saw her, he’d stop and ask her what was wrong. He’d try to fix the problem.

She didn’t even know if she had a problem. She hadn’t picked up a single negative vibe from George. Sure, maybe she was a shark in business, but Lorelei had enough experience with bad people in the music industry that she could recognize phony people.

Pull it together.Before anyone saw her, she headed down the stairs to the basement. The game room was big, and she needed four walls squeezing her in, holding her tightly, so she didn’t spiral out of control.

She slipped into the wine cellar.Perfect. No one would find her there.

Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back against the stone wall and did some slow breathing. It took a moment to notice, but instead of smellinglike cool, dry air in here, she got a whiff of something masculine—soap?

That’s odd.And then, she heard bottles clanking together.

Oh, crap.

Someone’s here.

But before she could sneak back out, she heard a deep, rumbly voice. “Caught you.”

She turned to see the bartender, Jude, holding a case of the special pink champagne they’d bought. He lifted it. “This the shit you want for toasts?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She stepped aside to open the door for him.

“You didn’t even look.” He shook the case, so the bottles rattled. “I could have Coors Light for all you know.”

She cracked a grin. “I’m not sure this crowd would notice.”

“Oh, they’d notice. But it might be better than the pink shit.”

“The pink ‘shit’ is delicious.”

The muscular, tattooed biker made an expression of disgust. “Pink means fruity. Ya ain’t puttin’ fruit in my booze.”

“Fine. Next wedding, I’ll let you serve tequila shots.”

The scruff parted when he grinned. “Now, we’re talkin’.”

“Come on. Let’s get toasting.”

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