Page 7 of The Businesswoman and the Bartender

“Oh, probably. I’m staying here, you know. In this hotel. So it’s convenient, obviously. Easier to come down here, get a bite, and then go back up to my room instead of heading out into the city and making the trip back. That’s what I mean by convenient. If that wasn’t, uh, clear.”

He listened to her meandering with an amused expression. Then he let out a tsk-tsk and said, “And yet not one word about the incredible service.”

Even after her bout of word vomit, he was still decent and charming and effortlessly handsome. His gentle teasing made her relax. She sighed wistfully and said, “That too. Of course. This was great. You’re great, Nick.”

His head dipped a bit to avoid her sincere gaze, as if maintaining eye contact was too much for him. Until he returned his gray-blue eyes to her hazel ones and silently held her stare.

It was amoment. There was no other way she knew how to describe it. Regardless of how the alcohol swirled within her and wreaked havoc on her emotions, the energy between them was so palpable, she couldn’t deny that this small cluster of secondsmeantsomething.

At least it did to her. He’d probably forget it by tomorrow.

“You’re pretty great yourself. Thanks again for keeping me company,” he murmured.

April knew she had to depart before humiliating herself further. She threw her purse over her shoulder and stepped down off the stool. “Have a good night.”

“You too, April,” he said as she turned and left the lounge. “Sleep well.”

Her legs were jelly as she proceeded to the elevator bay, her entire body vibrating with intensity. As she rode the lift up to the twenty-eighth floor, she pulled out her phone and sent a drunken text to her best friend, Lucy.

Apologies for the late-night text, but I have a huge crush on the bartender here. Like, stars in my eyes, infatuated beyond belief. Tell me to stop being dumb!

Knowing she wouldn’t get a response anytime soon, seeing as it was after one in the morning on the East Coast, April tossed her phone into her purse and tottered into her hotel room. She let slumber take her, hoping she and Dream-Nick might progress to the next level. Since that was all she’d ever have of him.

THREE

Faint vibration wokeher the next morning. Groaning, April flailed around in the dark until she found her cell on the nearby nightstand, still plugged into the charger. The alarm clock read four thirty, the illuminated numbers an unrelenting assault on her sleepy eyes. Her phone’s bright background was even worse, pulling another miserable groan from her. But a text message from Lucy coaxed her into unlocking the screen.

You better fuck that bartender.

April guffawed and then chucked the phone to the other side of her king-sized hotel bed, allowing herself to indulge in a few more hours of sleep. Her first seminar wasn’t until nine, so she’d set her alarm for seven. She hadn’t dreamed of Nick that night, but she fell back asleep to the image of his smiling face in her mind, which was better than nothing.

When her alarm sounded a few hours later, she hauled herself out of bed and chugged a bottle of water. She wasn’t horrifically hungover, but she was definitely feeling the effects of last night’s three gimlets.

After a rejuvenating shower, she pulled her hair up into a bun and applied her makeup. Historically, the last day of a conference was always more laid back, with people dressing down. She consulted the clothes she’d packed and settled on a pair of tapered black pants, a plain white tee, and an oversized salmon-colored blazer. She slipped her feet into her favorite black loafers, grabbed her purse and name badge, and headed out to the last day of the conference.

The morning consisted of dull seminars and one more client meeting. Then April met her two coworkers for lunch at a café a few blocks away from the convention center. While slurping her soup, she checked her personal phone and saw a follow-up text from Lucy.

You haven’t answered me. I hope it’s because you’re doing the nasty.

April snorted with laughter and typed out:

It’s one in the afternoon!

Lucy’s reply arrived in record time:

Your point?

I asked you to tell me to stop being dumb. Not to encourage me.

Ah, but what are friends for?

Shaking her head with mirth, she placed her phone back in her purse and geared up for the final stretch of sessions. Both of her coworkers were booked on red-eye flights and bound for home that night, poised to leave soon after the last seminar concluded at six in the evening. She said a quick goodbye to them, as well as a few others, before heading back to her hotel.

Her stomach twisted with hunger, and she knew she should go somewhere else for dinner. Seattle had hundreds of incredible restaurants, and she was limiting herself from experiencing the city fully—all because of a man who wouldn’t remember her once she left in a few days’ time. So, after returning to her hotel room, she hardened her heart and consulted the list of nearby hot spots the hotel had supplied upon check-in. There was a highly rated Italian restaurant around the corner. Decision made, she changed her shoes, pulling on a pair of white sneakers, and exited the hotel.

The restaurant was light and airy and sported an expansive curved bar. The bartender—a woman about her age—greeted her warmly. April ordered a glass of white wine since she was certain to order pasta, and nothing paired better, in her opinion. And also because, by this point, having a gin gimlet prepared by anyone other than Nick didn’t feel right.

The lobster ravioli was decadent and insanely delicious. Halfway through the meal, her cell phone buzzed with another message from Lucy.

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