Page 41 of On the Rocks

“There’s a little hiccup at our manufacturing facility.”

“With the new line?”

“No, we’re not ready for production on those yet. Just some digital record-keeping issues. But I now need to go resolve said issues to avoid a production shutdown.”

“Hopefully it’s an easy fix?”

“Should be.” And if this was what it took to keep production on track, what choice did I have? “Actually,” I said. “Did you want to come along? See how and where your drinks will be manufactured once all the recipes and packaging are finalized? Could be an interesting bit of content for your channel.”

“Oh, wow, that would actually be really cool!” Cora said.

“Sounds good. Our facility’s in the Hudson Valley area, so we’ll just hop over to the heliport?—”

She froze. “Wait, we’re taking a helicopter?”

“Yes,” I said, hitting the elevator button. “A quick little flight there and back.”

“You know what,” she said, a nervous trill to her voice, backing away from me a bit. “I don’t really need to see the facility after all.”

Huh?I turned to her, suddenly remembering. Cora had always been afraid of heights.

“Thank you, though,” she continued. “It was a really nice offer.”

“We could drive instead,” I said.

“No, you should go. Fly, I mean. It’ll be faster.”

“Honestly, Cora, driving won’t takethatmuch longer.” It was a lie. Newburgh was a short half-hour trip each way via helicopter, but closer to an hour and a half each way to drive.

She hemmed. “You’re sure it’s not an inconvenience?”

“I’m sure. Really.” The thought of spending some time alone with her, where we wouldn’t be interrupted by coworkers, was enticing. “We’ll take my Ferrari. It’s parked downstairs.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing over at Cora quickly as I navigated through the Manhattan traffic and out of the city. She hadn’t said a word since climbing into the car.

She laughed a bit, hands in her lap. “Nothing. I’ve just never been in a car this nice. I’m just…taking it all in. And sort of afraid to touch anything.”

I snorted. “It’s not gonna break.”

“Sorta feels like it might.”

“The interior is carbon fiber. Trust me. You’re good.” Luxury sports cars were just par for the course for me now. The first one had been exciting—new, different. My parents had done fine, financially, but we’d been solidly middle class. Making myfirst million had been a big deal to me. But these days, I didn’t think much of it. All the same, I hadn’t intended to make her uncomfortable. “You know what we need?” I said, veering off the main road and into the parking lot of a gas station. “Road trip snacks.”

“This isn’t a road trip,” she pointed out.

“I beg to differ. Anything longer than an hour constitutes a road trip.”

“It could take you that long to drive across Manhattan during rush hour.”

“Is that you saying you don’t want snacks?”

“To eat in your fancy, ridiculously expensive car?” She pursed her lips, and I had a hell of a time focusing my gaze anywhere else.

“Yes.”

“That feels like a bad idea.”

“Ah, so youdowant snacks—you just don’t think you should have them. Don’t worry,” I said, getting out of the car. I leaned back down, arching my brow. “If you mess up the upholstery, I’ll just buy a new one.”

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