Page 5 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

"What makes you think there’s more?"

"The suit screams 'escaping a business function,' the bourbon says 'daddy issues,' and the fact that you're alone in a hotel bar on a Thursday night suggests either a recent divorce or a midlife crisis."

I blink. "That's... eerily accurate."

"PR executive." She extends a hand, her fingers warm, her grip firm. "Reading people is kind of my thing."

"Tech CEO." I hold onto her hand a beat too long, her skin softer than I expected. "Running away from people is kind of mine."

"Let me guess – you ditched some kind of networking event?"

"A 'revolutionary' blockchain discussion that was neither revolutionary nor a discussion."

She winces. "The tech conference at the Bellagio? My ex was supposed to be handling PR for that."

"Small world." I signal Miguel for another round. "Though I'm guessing that's not why you're having a panic attack in a club?"

"No, that would be because I found out he's been living a double life with my college roommate. Via Instagram. During what was supposed to be my bachelorette weekend."

I whistle low. "Okay, you win."

"Pretty sure relationship trauma isn’t a competition." But her lips twitch. "Though if it was, I’d definitely be medaling in the 'discovering your fiancé’s secret life through social media' event."

"While I settle for bronze in the 'watching your first love marry your best friend' pentathlon?"

"Exactly." She accepts the fresh drink Miguel sets down. "Though I have to say, you’re handling it better than I am. At least you’re not covered in glitter and hiding from your sisters."

"Night's still young." I find myself grinning. "And you haven’t seen my Instagram scroll history."

"Can't be worse than mine. I may have spent the last forty-eight hours analyzing every post for clues I missed. While eating my body weight in room service chocolate cake."

"Rookie mistake. Everyone knows hotel bourbon is superior to hotel cake."

She leans in, her scent curling around me like a slow burn. "Says the man drinking alone."

"Says the woman having a panic attack alone."

She tilts her head, considering. "You make an annoyingly valid point."

"I do that sometimes. Usually right before making terrible decisions."

“Like what?”

“Like suggesting we move this pity party to my hotel’s bar. One that isn’t currently playing…” I listen. “Is that theMacarena?”

“Oh god.” She groans. “This is what I get for letting my sisters pick the venue.”

“I happen to know a much better bar. One that won’t require a hazmat suit to remove the glitter afterward.”

She hesitates, then checks her phone. Whatever she sees makes her expression shift.

“You know what?” She stands, wobbling slightly. “Why not? My sisters wanted me to be spontaneous. This is spontaneous, right?”

“Definitely spontaneous. Possibly ill-advised.”

“Perfect. We’ll be trauma twins, then.” She smooths down her dress, sending a fresh shower of glitter to the floor. “Lead the way, Tech CEO. But just so you know, I’m not drinking.”

I raise an eyebrow at her empty glass.

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