Page 59 of Not Safe For Work

I wrap an arm around her tightly, so snug that she has to bend a little at the hip. “Thanks ladies. I picked it out. Liv’s way too modest, but I love seeing her shine.” Without thinking, I kiss the tip of her nose. I’m elated when she doesn’t flinch, just drops her eyes while a small grin forms.

Stacey clears her throat, but I don’t give a fuck if our little display of affection bothers her. I just squeeze tighter.

“Olivia, we heard you got a meeting with Surf and Stream. How’d you get so lucky?” Stacey asks.

I really need to get away from these women, but before I can find a polite way to exit, Liv straightens and looks directly at them.

“You think I got lucky?”

Stacey and Marissa both laugh uncomfortably, just a little chuckle that shows they have no idea what to say.

I don’t know where this newfound confidence comes from, but Liv continues, “Would you tell Gavin he got lucky? Or Eduardo? Or any of the men on my team?”

“She didn’t mean anything—” Marissa says, before getting cut off.

“She meant exactly what she said. And my answer is no, I didn’t get fuckinglucky. I put in hours of work to research that company, to find the right contact and to message him again and again andagainuntil he agreed to take a meeting. Luck had nothing to do with it. It was hard work, and perseverance, and plain old grit that got me that meeting. So next time you’re chatting about me, those are some words you can use.” Olivia looks down at her margarita for a moment and then she chugs the whole thing. “You know, besides just calling me a slut.”

Stacey and Marissa both go bug-eyed, but Liv is already dragging me away. She pulls me all the way onto the beach where a fire pit is roaring to life. And then she not-so-elegantly plops down directly in the sand.

“Sparkles?” I sit down next to her.

“I am so high right now.”

Oh. Well, that was bound to happen. “So when you’re stoned, the filter turns off? Because that shit was awesome. I wish I had it on tape.”

“Scottie!”

“What do you need?” I ask.

“Just five minutes to get my limbs working again. Then, maybe a quesadilla. I’ve gone too long without cheese.”

I lean into her and laugh. She’ll be fine.

“I bet they have some pretty good wine at this hotel. We could skip this thing and order room service if you want,” I offer.

She squints at me, but I can tell she’s mulling it over. “You’d really want to leave the party?”

“I don’t give a shit about anyone here but you.” Fuck. I hope she’s buzzed enough to let that one fly. Though if I’m honest, I’m starting to care less and less about hiding my feelings from her. She’s single. We have fun together. How long am I supposed to pretend I don’t think about kissing her every damn day?

“We do have our own pool,” she muses.

“We do. And if I’m correct, you have two swimsuits to choose from.”

“I’m not positive I can walk,” she says, completely serious. She pushes out her lips, trying to solve the dilemma.

“Let’s start with standing.” I haul her up and try to brush as much sand as I can off her dress. She leans on me but it’s definitely not all her weight. “Can you take a few steps? You can hold on to me.”

It feels like I’m teaching a toddler. Liv gives me a skeptical eye roll but hesitantly takes a step. Then another, and another, letting go of me entirely.

“Yep. I’m perfect,” she says, right before falling back into the sand.

We wait about ten minutes before trying again. Luckily no one has noticed us over here, everyone consumed with the bar for now.

This time, when I get her up, her balance is back to normal. She also doesn’t let go of my arm as we walk toward the other side of the beach.

On the way to our villa, Liv quizzes me over and over on our new agenda.

“Quesadillas, then swimming? Or swimming first? Orwinefirst!”

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