Page 70 of Neat
“Peppermint,” he said in awe.
I shook my head, a small laugh escaping my lips. It was an incredible party, and I had to give it to my parents. If they knew how to do one thing well — it was this.
Chris and I claimed our seats at one of the round tables in the back corner, me dropping off my clutch and him hanging his suit jacket on the back of the chair. Then, he led me to the dance floor, peppermint champagne still in our hands, and we danced.
I was never a big country music fan, but I couldn’t fight back a smile as I did the old line dances I’d used to love in high school with the rest of the employees at the distillery. In a way, it felt like a big barn party, like just another night at The Black Hole, and I smiled despite the fact that I was in a dress and heels.
When I did a turn during“Boot Scootin’ Boogie”and saw Logan watching me from across the dance floor, I smiled for a completely different reason.
I stuttered, but he moved easily into the next move, giving me a wink and a crooked smile that had his dimple popping out on his left cheek. I smiled back, finding my place in the dance again, but unable to take my eyes off him. His own eyes swept over me, and he shook his head, mouthing a “wow” that made me blush.
Blush.
Who even was I?
We were still staring at each other when Logan’s older brother, Jordan, narrowed his eyes — first at Logan, and then at me. I swallowed under the intensity of his glare, offering a small, noncommittal wave. Jordan lowered his brows more, turning his gaze to Logan, who finally tore his eyes off me and continued dancing, acting like nothing had happened at all.
My stomach sank, remembering the universe we still lived in, regardless of the one we’d promised to make together. But I didn’t have time to stew on it before Dad was on the microphone, telling us to make our way to our tables for dinner to be served.
I wasn’t able to steal away time with Logan like I’d hoped — not during dinner, and not after, when the white elephant gift exchange was happening between the employee children on the dance floor. When the band picked back up again and people started making their way to the floor, I caught his attention from where he sat at a table with his mother, Jordan, and Mikey, and I nodded toward the hall where the bathrooms were.
Logan nodded, and my stomach was a mess of nerves as I made my way across the room, like I was about to steal a car instead of talk to my boyfriend.
My boyfriend.
An audible sigh left my chest at that, and I shook my head, giggling to myself and looking back over my shoulder to see if Logan was following. I stopped short, frowning when I saw he’d been pulled aside by the other tour guides. They shoved him toward the dance floor, relentless, and he laughed and laughed, but his eyes were sad when they met mine.
“Sorry,” he mouthed.
I smiled, waving him off and letting him know it was okay.
Maybe I wouldn’t get time alone with him at the party, but I’d have him all to myself when it was all over.
That was enough for me.
Chris and I made another drive by at the peppermint champagne table before we were back on the dance floor, too — on the opposite side of where Logan was. We exchanged glances now and then, shared a smile or two, and all the while, I counted down the minutes until the party would be over and I would be in his arms again.
“If I could have everyone’s attention, please,” my father said when the next song died out. Everyone on the dance floor turned to face the makeshift stage, where he stood behind a podium with a microphone, smiling and beaming out at his employees. Mom stood beside him, both of them dressed in pearly white — Dad in a tux, Mom in a gown — looking like the Groom and Bride or like the King and Queen, themselves.
I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn’t in such a good mood.
As it was, Chris and I gathered in the middle of the dance floor with everyone else, holding our glasses out when a server came around to refill champagne glasses. That meant a toast was coming, and if I knew my father, he’d be toasting to how successful the distillery was this year.
AKA — how successfulhewas this year.
“Mrs. Scooter and I would like to sincerely thank each and every one of you for attending tonight,” he said, putting an arm around Mom as they swept their eyes over the crowd. “This is the twenty-seventh year that we’ve had the Christmas Eve party — a tradition that my grandparents started that I’m happy to keep alive today.”
There was a light applause, and my mom squeezed Dad’s arm. I swore I saw him getting choked up, which was laughable — considering him and grandpa were fighting about almost everything up to the very day he passed away.
Dad went on to talk about how well the distillery had done, talking about new partnerships and advances. The entire room was abuzz when he revealed that my brother, Malcolm, had secured us a sixty-second advertisement during the upcoming Super Bowl. Dad said there would be filming happening at the distillery, because they wanted to show the faces that made America’s favorite whiskey come to life.
I zoned out a bit after that, sipping my champagne that I was supposed to be saving for the toast while my eyes scanned the room for Logan. I found him over to my left, closer to the stage than I was, surrounded by his mother and two brothers. Noah wasn’t there this year, since he was visiting the mayor’s daughter in Utah. It looked a little strange, seeing the family without one of the brothers — like a puzzle with one piece missing right in the center.
Logan must have sensed me watching him, because he took a sip of his whiskey, casually glancing around until he found me, too. He smiled, tilting his glass toward me, and I tilted mine.
With just our eyes, we had an entire conversation in that moment.
You look beautiful,he said.
