Page 45 of Once Upon A Sale

His smirk says it all. He loves this attention, doing something simple and making people happy. I wonder, and not for the first time, why I’m not in love with this guy.

Inevitably, I ask myself if I’m broken somehow because this funny, caring, insanely hot guy wants me and all I see is a dear friend.

But sure, give me a control freak with a tendency to shoot and kill and I’m all spread legs and palpitating hearts. Go figure.

“What are we eating with our margaritas?” My question is directed at Tabby since she’s our resident chef. Not like a five star chef but more like a let’s-see-what’s-in-the-fridge-and-improvise kind of chef. Which, by the way, does turn out to be a five star meal.

Tabby is rummaging through our cupboards, pushing things aside as she looks for what I’m guessing is the guacamole.

“There it is!” Victorious, with her arms raised like she’s just won the Olympic gold, Tabby sets up on the other side of Loganas she pours the tortilla chips in one bowl and the guac in three separate serving cups.

Opie and I don’t even wait for her to place them on the table before we’re already grabbing handfuls of chips and dipping them in the thick deliciousness.

“I swear, I could literally live off of this.” Opie speaks as she eats, tiny pieces of tortillas flying from her mouth. Classic.

“Same. But only if margaritas are washing it down.” I give Logan a pointed look like he needs to hurry the fuck up, and he just grins as he handles the shaker like some professional bartender in the hot spots of Miami.

“Patience, young Padawan.”

I snort at his comment, propelling me back to when we were kids watching the entireStar Warssaga on repeat.

“But I’m thirstyyyyyyy!” Opie and Tabby join me in our whining, making Logan roll his eyes just as he runs a lime wedge along the rim of the iconic triangle glasses.

I crunch into a chip when he presses said rim into the coarse salt and aligns all four glasses on the counter. This is like edging.

“Hurry up!” Like spoiled brats, we start banging on the counters as he pours the perfect concoction into each glass, not spilling a single drop. Then he adds a wedge of lime to each and fuckingvoilà!

By some kind of miracle, we don’t hurl ourselves onto the drinks. Instead, we act like fucking ladies as we pop out our pinkies and clink our glasses together.

“To friendships with people who know how to make the best margaritas in South Florida.” Opie takes the first sip while Logan faux pouts.

“C’mon! At least the whole of Florida.” He tsks, feigning disappointment.

“I can’t vouch for that, Logan. I’ve never tasted margaritas in the panhandle.” Opie shrugs like she’s won the argument and I suppose, in a way, she has.

“Fair point.” Tabby and I nod but are quickly distracted by the tangy mixture with our beloved tequila.

“I’m guessing, by the look of your empty fridge, that we’re ordering out?” Logan’s head is in said refrigerator and the girls and I don’t even pretend to feel ashamed.

“Yep.” I almost pop myPthen remember I’m a fucking lady not a child. Yeah, who am I kidding? I pop that motherfucker like a pro.

“Mexican?” Tabby barely asks, since it’s obvious we’re ordering at our favorite restaurant.

“I’ll do it!”

I air kiss Opie for taking on the task as she whips out her tablet and starts the order.

“So, Sunny girl, what colors are we wearing for the gala?” Logan is leaning on the counter next to where I’m sitting. I’m just barely taller than him this way but only because he’s slouching a bit.

“Yeah, about that.” Fuck, I don’t want to hurt him and, to be honest, I’m not even sure why I asked Dexter, knowing damn well Logan would be hurt by my late flake out. Then I remember Jarrett and his refusal to call me Sunny because it’s Logan’s nickname for me and I have to wonder…no. I did not sabotage my friendship for him. No fucking way.

“Oh, that’s not good. You’re not going? It’s literally called The Warren Gala, it would be like not showing up at your own birthday party.” He nudges my shoulder and shakes his head.

“No, yeah. I’m going but…” I hesitate, take a sip of my margarita, and just blurt it all out. “I’m going with this guy, Dexter Hamilton. He’s a donor, it all just happened so fast. I’mso sorry!” Then I gulp the rest of my margarita and instantly regret it. I barely had time to taste it properly.

Logan is quiet for a beat too long but I’m too chicken shit to look at him. Funny how I can kill men twice my size and go head to head with dangerous fuckers but I can’t stand the thought of hurting my oldest friend.

“Oh.” Pushing off from the counter as if he’s trying to put distance between us, he takes my empty glass and returns to his bartending station. This time, the mood is different. He’s not giving us a play by play with the ingredients and when I look up at Tabby, I can see the disappointment in her eyes.

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