Page 15 of The Kiss Countdown

“You seem eager to get in there,” Vincent says. “I take it I’ve got a regular socialite with me tonight?”

I clear my throat. “Socialite? Hardly. I do enjoy a party that’s put together well though. Not too long ago you would have had no choice but to come solo. I would’ve been out with my best friend, or behind the scenes making all the magic like this happen.”

We stop at a tall table lined with flutes of champagne. Vincent grabs two and passes one to me. While I take a small sip, he downs his in a few gulps before reaching for another.

“Whoa.” I regard him warily. “How about we not get carried away. The night just started, and if you get tipsy, believe I’m calling an Uber home. Or at the very least,I’llbe the one driving that pretty car of yours. I know how touchy you Benz owners are.”

Vincent grimaces and blinks. “That burned a lot more than I thought it would.” He sets the second drink back down, untouched. “Sorry. I needed something to take the edge off, but I’ll take it slow from now on.”

“You don’t like parties?”

“I’m more comfortable in a simulation capsule or surrounded by nature.” He looks down and scuffs his shiny shoes against the Astroturf. “Real nature.”

“Weren’t you telling me how I needed to loosen up in the car? Where’d that energy go?” I tease, trying to get him to relax.

When I do events, it’s my duty to make the process go as smoothly as possible. Tonight I’ve let my starving senses be immersed in the glittering lights, and I didn’t realize how stiff Vincent was beside me. I may be here only for the sake of him keeping up appearances in front of his sister, but I also want him to have a good time.

“I’m using it to make sure we have an escape route in the event of an emergency. Or do you think everyone’s just going to line up single file to get down the stairs?” He’s busy scanning the rooftop, probably preparing that exit plan, so he doesn’t see me roll my eyes. Though when his eyes land back on me, something in his look shifts. “But to have the most beautiful woman attached to me tonight, I’ll endure.”

I cock an eyebrow, waiting for him to throw in some smart remark. But he radiates nothing but honesty and appreciation, and I’m thrown off by his attention. Warmth floods my cheeks and I’m unable to hold his gaze. “Thank you.”

I look up as Vincent offers a nod of acknowledgment to a middle-aged man passing by with two white cups filled with ice cream and neon-green spoons. Vincent seems to be relaxing; still, I think we can do better. Neither of us planned on a New Year’s Eve outing, but now that we’re here, maybe we can make the best of it.

“I have a deal for you,” I say.

Vincent’s eyebrows jump up. “What kind of deal?”

“You loosen up. Forget about the crowd and the fake grass and just enjoy the night.”

“If I do, what then? What will you do?”

“Then I’ll enjoy the night as well.” I shrug. It may not be much of an incentive for him, but now that I’m here, I realize how much I need this. To be out in the fresh air and just forget about everything.

“How can I resist an offer like that?” Vincent says with a small smile. “You’ve got a deal. What should we do first?”

I look in the direction the man with the ice cream came from. Among caterers walking around with a never-ending supply of champagne and meatballs, there’s one lone college-age vendor set up at an ice cream stand. I smile at Vincent. “Let’s get some ice cream.”

Vincent follows close behind me and we join the line. “What’s your favorite flavor?” he asks as we wait for the couple in front of us to make their selection.

“Chocolate, though I can’t even remember the last time I had any. You?”

“Strawberry.”

When it’s our turn, I step forward. “Hi, can we get two, please?”

The worker looks at both me and Vincent with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m waiting for more cups. The ice cream’s been going fast, and there’s only one left.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. I’m a little bummed, but I won’t cry over a treat I don’t need anyway. I turn to Vincent. “We can come back later if you want.”

“Or,” he says, “we can share. We’ll take one chocolate. What? We’re livin’ it up tonight, right, Mimi?” He gives my back a playful nudge. I glare at him for using my nickname but don’t protest.

Vincent thanks the worker after she loads the cup with two hearty scoops of ice cream, but before we walk away, I grab one more spoon. He looks at me, mildly insulted, and I lift one shoulder. I’m willing to share the treat with him. But a spoon too? I don’t know him like that.

“So, Vincent,” I say as we walk on and the first cold bite melts on my tongue. “If parties aren’t your thing, what do you like to do for fun?”

“You know, hiking, rock climbing, skydiving. Stuff like that,” he says nonchalantly, while my heart races at even the thought of hanging in the air.

“You don’t like parties, but you’ll willingly spend time in a confined capsule or throw yourself out of a plane. I guess that would make you an antisocial adrenaline junkie?”

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