Page 83 of The Fall Back Plan
“Are you telling me you’ve never played spin the bottle?” Sophie asks with extremely fake surprise.
“I have not,” Jolie calls back.
“Or seven minutes in heaven?”
“That either,” Jolie says.
“Well, we better fix that,” Sophie announces. “Anyone in here willing to volunteer for spin the bottle?”
I’m on my feet, but so is Jace. Why is he even up here? He’s dating someone. I look out at the audience and spot his girlfriend grinning at her man.
Two of the codgers get up, and so do two of the hockey players. I glare at all of them.
“Just so happens I have a bottle here,” Sophie says. More cheers. “Gentlemen, if you could form a circle up here on the stage, I’ll spin this bottle and we’ll see where that gets us.”
I shoot a look at Jolie, who is watching me with a smile. If she thinks I’m letting anyone else get the kiss, she has sorely misread me.
I scowl at the rest of the men in the circle, but Sophie has already slipped between two of them and crouched to set the bottle down. Then she gives it a hard spin and steps out of the circle again. “Okay, y’all, not my best work. One, two, three times around and it’s slowing . . . slowing . . . slowing . . .”
I haven’t been watching the bottle because I’ve been too busy shooting death looks at my competition, but I look down now.
The bottle stops, pointing in the direction of one of the hockey players. He nudges it with his toe, and it spins to Floyd, who nudges it and points it at the other hockey player. He nudges it to point to Henry, who points it Jace’s way. Slow as molasses, Jace crouches and turns the bottle so it points straight at me.
“Looks like we have a winner,” he says. And when all the other men grin, I realize I have been played. Using my Scooby powers of reasoning, I figure out what Jolie was up to when she was flitting around among the tables all night.
I push my way through the circle to the sound of the crowd cheering, and it only gets louder as I hop off the stage and stride across the bar to Jolie. When I reach her, I swoop her up and throw her over my shoulder and keep going down the hall.
“Lucas!” Jolie calls. “Put me down.”
I answer with a smack on her very pert behind, and then the crowd loses it. Sophie can’t even get them settled down because she’s laughing too hard.
Jolie’s office door is open and I walk right in, not letting her down until I slam the door shut and deposit her on her feet, backed up against it.
“Jolie McGraw,” I say, ducking so our eyes are even. “Did you see that bottle land on me?”
Her mouth twitches. “Yes.”
“You know what we call that?”
“A sign?”
“A sign.” Then I capture her lips in a kiss that I feel to the soles of my feet, every one of my nerve endings lighting up as the sweetness that is Jolie floods through me.
She leans into the kiss, her hands fisting in the dark blue button-down shirt I wore because Brooklyn said it would make my eyes look nice, and I wanted Jolie to think I had nice eyes.
I don’t know how long that kiss goes, but it changes tone and intensity before either of us comes up for air.
“Jo,” I say, resting my forehead against hers.
“Talk later,” she murmurs, pressing kisses along my jawline.
I oblige, going back in for another kiss that once again erases all sense of time—
Until there’s a sharp rapping on the door that startles Jolie into a squeak as she springs away from the sudden noise.
“It’s been seven minutes in heaven,” Mrs. Herring calls, “which means time is up and we want an update.”
I growl and yank the door open. Mrs. Herring stands there looking not even remotely intimidated. “An update? Are you kidding?”
