Page 17 of Bad & Bossy

My throat tightened as I looked at Bobby. He seemed none the wiser, his nose buried in the top of his takeout cup instead of having to smell the strong scent of booze emanating from Adam. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll call you.”

Adam studied me. I knew I didn’t look like I used to. I was more put together now, less sloppy, less of a mess. “You on the straight and narrow now too?” he asked, his brows knitting as he gave me a whiff.

I swallowed. “I?—”

Adam snorted, his hand abandoning my shoulder. “Whatever, man. Good luck to you. It never lasts.”

Before I could say a word he stepped around me and up to the counter, spouting his order to Eric the way I used to when I didn’t give a shit. I booked it before he could ask me anything else.

Bobby followed behind me, waving absentmindedly at the black Porsche that pulled up alongside my car. “Don’t worry about him,” Bobby said, his gaze caught somewhere far off in the distance. “He’s a shit. We’ll get through this together.”

I kind of wanted to get through it alone.

Bobby nodded at me as he stepped off toward the car he’d hired. I didn’t know how I’d managed to get myself into this situation—my old friends looking down at me, my new friend someone I barely knew but seemed to be on this journey with me regardless. I didn’t know how I even considered Adam a friend. It’s not like we did things together outside of drinking, and I was fairly sure he and his group only liked me for my house, but still it stung, nonetheless.

————

Work helped to keep my mind sharp and to keep me distracted from giving in to the things I wanted, all right there in front of me. However, here, I could stare at the alcohol and not see it as a temptation, instead seeing it as nothing more than chemicals in the different stages of creation.

My start to the day still sat heavy in my mind, and as I made my way out of the main chamber of the brewery and toward the elevator back to my office, all I could think about was how much it made me sick to see Adam still drunk when I wasn’t. He was definitely easier to be around when I was also inebriated.

The stack of papers in my hand did absolutely nothing to distract me from my thoughts. As I continued to think about Adam and my previous situation, something warm collided with me, nearly knocking me off my step. I wrapped my arm around it to keep my balance.

“Shit, sorry,” a small voice mumbled.

I looked down, moving the papers out of my line of sight.

Shit, indeed.

Long brown hair, a tour guide uniform, freckles, and hazel eyes. That little beauty mark between her lower lip and her chin.

Dana.

My body froze. My hand around her waist, warm and soft against my skin, felt like an electric current. She looked as mortified as I felt, and as the seconds ticked by and things became even more awkward, I didn’t know what to do or say. But something about holding her, the way her body curved against mine…

“Cole,” she hissed.

My heart leaped in my chest as I released her without another word, snapping back to reality. She hurried off behind me but my legs were frozen in place, and it wasn’t purely from the sticky floor that still hadn’t been taken care of.

No, it was the little ache in my heart, the one that I’d felt when I’d sobered up after that horrible morning between us. The one I’d pushed down with drink after drink.

Fuck.

Chapter 6

Dana

Istood outside Cole’s office with a clipboard, paper and a pen in my hand, bouncing from foot to foot. All I had to do was knock. That was it. I just needed to get inside, ask my questions, and go.

The amount of incessant inquiries I was getting with every tour about Cole’s background was becoming tedious. I didn’t know the answers outside of the standard ones I’d been told to give when I first got the job—he had a passion for beer. I laughed thinking about it now. Passion was one way to describe it.

I wished they’d told me who I was talking about before finding out the hard way.

But by going straight to the source, I could answer the questions the visitors presented with confidence. I hated having to avoid queries and conversations because I didn’t know the proper thing to say, so my manager, Allison, had suggested having a conversation with him. If only she knew how fucking difficult that would be for me.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I knocked three times on his opaque glass door, almost hoping he wasn’t in there.

“Come in.”

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