Page 74 of Unbossly Manners

“Wait,” Derrick’s eyes lit up, remembering something. “I already had a beer when I went to the bar. I only asked for one beer from the bartender, for Peyton. I got mine a few minutes earlier. I think from a waiter. I don’t recall. Or no… someone handed it to me. I was on the phone with the caterer. I’d only taken a few sips.”

“Is that relevant,” I asked.

“Yes,” Derrick sat up, his eyes alight. “Don’t you remember? Someone knocked into our table and the beers spilled. Nothing major. I grabbed them and set them right. But they could’ve gotten mixed up. I remember thinking my beer tasted colder than before.”

I sucked in a gasp, remembering. “And the label on mine was ripped after the table was knocked. You had been scratching your label.”

“An old habit,” Derrick said.

We all glanced around the table, eyes widening, mouths agape as the truth sank in one by one.

“That beer wasn’t for me,” I said, an icy chill running down my spine.

twenty-eight

“I’ve died and gone to country heaven.” Selena released an impressed whistle. “This is fucking gorgeous.”

Trees, thick and lush, lined the long driveway toward the large cabin that sat at the top of the hill. It looked more like a small lodge. Jackson and Selena sat in the front seat of the rental car and I shared the backseat with half the luggage.

It had been a week since the party. Five days since the interrogation.

The company had given me a week of paid time off since I was the one who had been drugged. Dreamary was on red alert, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Why had someone tried to drug Derrick?

And why had everything gone haywire in the past couple of months? We’d narrowed the start of the disruptions —appointments being canceled, emails being deleted, social media accounts being targeted by trolls—to the week after we announced internally that NOW was interested in acquiring us.

I’d barely seen Derrick. He was in full-on investigation mode.

“Why did you get this little holiday from work again?” Selena snapped photos, her window open, the wind whipping my hair.

“So I don’t sue their asses,” I joked.

“You should,” Jackson said.

“You’re their lawyer. Don’t you care about the company?” I rested my head on the back of Selena’s seat and she laid her hand on my hair, petting me.

“I care about you more.” His gaze clamped on mine over his shoulder, driving the point home. I flushed from head to toe. He slid his eyes back to the drive, and Selena pulled her mouth down and widened her eyes at me, in an oh-my-god-I-want-to-squeal-but-I-can’t look.

This trip was Jackson’s idea. I still didn’t know what I’d gotten into. It was for some bike race in the Vermont countryside, but I didn’t care. Jackson had been extra attentive since the incident, coming by the apartment every evening when he was done with work, bringing me takeout, pastries, and little comforts like candles, lotions, and books.

He’d been distraught when he remembered he had this trip out of town but quickly turned it into a mini-holiday for Selena and me (with a little race on the side—which he’d slipped in late in the planning process).

The drive had been gorgeous, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to bike twenty miles up and down country roads to experience it all, but he’d insisted, saying it would be good for my mental health.

“How are you doing?” Jackson asked from the driver’s seat. I couldn’t count how many times he’d asked this in the last week.

“Feeling a tad guilty.” I sat back.

His hands gripped the steering wheel.

“Don’t you dare,” he scolded.

“I do dare,” I said, flipping through the book I’d been trying to read, the pages rustling from the wind. “The deal with NOW is on hold because of me.”

“Not because of you.” Jackson drilled his gaze at me from the rearview mirror. Selena flicked through her phone but nodded her agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah. I know.” I rolled my eyes. “Because of Derrick.”

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