Page 48 of Best Served Cold

“I don’t thinkanyonewould try to make fun of you,” Briar commented.

“Oh, they have,” she said with a half-smile.

“And they cried?” I guessed.

She shrugged. “Sometimes they did. SometimesIdid. But if I was the one who cried, my brother Liam would roll in, and he’d turn around and make them cry. So either way they learned a lesson. You don’t even want to know what happened to the kids who messed with our little brother. Now, we’re going to shop, and you’re going to get whatever the hell you want.”

So I went shopping with my friends, and they helped me pick out some clothes that I actually liked. It was fun. But now Rob’s giving me that inscrutable look, and I feel a prickling of the old self-consciousness. Did I overdo it? Do I look like one of those try-hard kids who got mocked mercilessly?

“Is it too fancy?” I ask. “I liked the color, but maybe it’s a bit much. I?—”

“Your dress looks good on you. Really good.”

Something inside me glows at the praise, because I know he’s a man who means what he says.

“Okay,” I say, grinning, then slap the bar with my palm. “So, I’ve been experimenting with NA drinks all week, and I’ve come up with a few options that are really good. Do you want something fruity, aromatic, or fresh?”

“You did that for me?” he asks, sounding alarmed. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair, and I watch his arm as the muscles bunch, my mouth going dry.

“Dylan, um, he thinks we can put them on the menu,” I stammer.

He gives a nod, followed by a smile that lights up his face, making those green-gold eyes crinkle at the edges. It feels like a metaphysical punch. “Surprise me, Not-So-Pollyanna. But I want it to be sweet.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Sure you do.”

“Heard anything more about your mystery?” he asks.

I tell him about the unknown-number messenger while I mix his drink. Then I pass it over the bar to him, our fingers brushing, and lean toward him in eagerness as I watch him sip.

I’ve never given it much thought, but there’s something sensual about a man drinking. My eyes track his Adam’s apple as he swallows the first taste.

“Well?” I ask. Conversation buzzes around the whole room and there’s a few muted thumps from his friends setting up on the stage, but my attention is firmly fixed on him.

“Terrible.” But his mouth is already twitching with a grin.

“You’reterrible.”

“It’s delicious, Sophie Ginnis. It tastes like an Aperol spritzer.”

“Is it bad that it tastes like alcohol?” I ask, suddenly doubting myself. “I know, I mean, I guessed…”

“That I had an alcohol problem?” He gives me another half-smile. “I like the taste, but it’s not going to drive me to a liquor bottle. Jonah’s more likely to do that.”

“What did he do?” I ask, horrified. I can tell from Rob’s fixed jaw that Jonah definitely did something.

“I’m trying to become a foster parent,” he says, and if I’d been holding something, I would have dropped it. Rob, a foster parent?

“Yes, I know. It shocked me too.” He grins, shaking his head slightly. “But there’s this kid, Emil, who was in my music program?—”

“Music program?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing the lip of the bar and leaning in a little. I see more people coming up to the bar, and I realize there are a few waiting not so patiently. My boss gives me a strained look, followed by a thumbs-up. I’m pretty sure he’s just coddling me. Everyone at work has been sonice. They still don’t know the details of what happened with my engagement, but I suspect the gossip circuit has put forth some pretty creative ideas.

After word got around, Dylan took me aside and informed me they wouldn’t be using Jonah for distribution anymore, effective immediately. It wasn’t his call, but I know he petitioned the Buchanans, who own the brewery, on my behalf. Knowing Dottie, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d had a hand in it too.

I know I’m not pulling my weight tonight, and I feel a familiar thrum of guilt. Still. I really, really want to hear what Rob’s going to say.

“My job, you know?” he says.

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