Page 20 of A Dash of You

“She was smart in hiring you. Your baking is damn good.”

Warm pride swirls in my chest.

He’s surprisingly holding a conversation with me and I’m afraid to make any sudden movements or breathe too hard, thinking it’ll end.

“Thank you. I take it you liked the orange scone then?”

He goes to answer, but Lana and Mark come back holding a tray of shots and Logan sneaks back over to his table like it’s his lifeline. Did I make him nervous?

“Drink up. There’s plenty more where that came from.” Mark hands me a shot first, then Lana. A pickle-topped drink remained.

“If I don’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get us drunk. And what’s this?” Lana asks her boyfriend, holding up the mini pickle, her face unimpressed.

I press my lips together, holding in a laugh, but Logan doesn’t find it funny. His features harden as he stares Mark down. Despite his limited emotion, the disdain is powerfully evident.

“It’s called a pickleback. You take the shot of whiskey then drink the pickle juice,” Mark tells her, like we should obviously know that.

“That sounds disgusting. I’ll pass on the pickle juice.”

“Suit yourself, babe.” Mark shrugs. “How about you?” Mark turns to me.

“I have to be at work early tomorrow.” I’m not a huge drinker. But when I did, there was always an uneasiness I felt around Jason and his colleagues.

“Just one or maybe two won’t kill ya.” Mark moseys his way closer to me.

“Okay fine. Why not?” New lifeand all.I clink my shot glass with theirs before shooting it down. The burn instantly hit my throat. “Holy hell.” I cough. “That’s the strongest shot I ever had.”

The one beer plus the shot. Yeah, my head’s already spinning. No more for me if I want to make it back to Lana’s in one piece.

She dances in place, bumping her hips with mine. I strongly chuckle while Mark smirks in our direction without taking his eyes off us.

As time passes, Crew makes it back to our group, who’s now chatting with Logan, a much quieter Logan if that’s even possible.

When the music slows, the three of us stand at the tables, throwing around the topic of our daily jobs. I skillfully avoid the subject, letting Lana enthusiastically discuss her artistic ability. But also hearing Mark brag about how good he is at being a massage therapist.

Go fucking figure. Pervert.

Why am I not surprised that it’s his career choice? Getting to put his hands on women all day. Groping them.

“Let’s not forget the award I was offered for best in town. Guess these hands arethatgood.” Mark grins, wiggling his fingers.

Who’d give this man an award?

I pass him a suspicious look while Crew throws his head back in laughter, and Logan draws his brows together.

It’s Lana’s turn to throw Crew a pissed off glare for laughing at her insufferable date.

“Sorry. Continue, Matt.” Crew grins over his beer.

“It’s Mark.”

“Ah, right. My bad.”

Apparently, I’m not the only one who finds this man unbearable. He’s annoying and full of himself. Witnessing Lana and Mark together doesn’t make sense. No way she finds this man desirable.

My speculation is correct because when she passes me a, what the fuck glance, I know it’s not going to end well for our man of the hour. Mark may get the boot after all.

Cold hands touch my body, and I go rigid. The water I switched to almost drowns me as I choke on it and my muscles lock in place rendering me immobile.

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