Page 7 of Whiskey Darling
I’mnotlusting for my new boss. It’s a path I will not take. I willnotdo it.
Any possibility of a romantic encounter must be avoided at all costs.
My spine straightens. I stop twitching at my skirt. Tilting my head, I give Flynn a confident smile. He scowls in confusion as he realizes his stabs at intimidation isn’t working.
“You have the relevant information, Mr. Alexander. It’s on my resumé, after all.” A resumé for appearances only, Sawyer told me that night in Nashville.
“I don’t recall all the details,” Flynn states, his brow furrowing deeper the more I relax. He doesn’t like losing control over the situation. “Humor me, won’t you?”
“Twenty-four, if it makes any difference. If you’d like to order a cake, I turn twenty-five on June first.”
“Allie.” A warning shake of his head accompanies Sawyer’s whisper. Biting his lips, he barely contains a grin. “A bit of advice. Humor him. Flynn missed lunch today and becomes quite testy when he hasn’t been fed.”
That earns Sawyer a blistering glare before Flynn’s dark eyes glide back to me.
“I’m curious how someone so young gains the talents Mr. Rush insists you possess,” Flynn bites out. “Inexperience could prove our downfall in this particular market.”
Those cutting words have me itching to prove Iamworth every penny of the outrageous salary they offered me. “Strawberry with buttercream icing served with a shot of Highwest Campfire.”
Both men give me a blank look until I blow out an exaggerated sigh. “My favorite birthday cake and whiskey pairing. The smokiness of bourbon, rye, and scotch all blended together, the only whiskey of its kind, balances out the cake’s sweetness. It’s quite the experience. If you’ve never tried it, you really should.”
A triumphant “I told you so!” grin is plastered across Sawyer’s face.
Flynn continues his silent regard for a long moment. I return that stare with equal amounts of cool indifference.
Reminding myself I am a badass whiskey ambassador.
My knees almost buckle when he sits behind his desk, stabbing at the intercom button. He never breaks eye contact with me. Not for one instant.
“Meyer, can you come in for a second?”
Did he just call his secretary by her last name? Strange, but whatever. Mom says folks from California are a different breed, so maybe that’s a thing here.
His secretary pokes her head in the door. She’s mid-forties and attractive, with ash blonde hair and twinkly blue eyes.
“What do you need, Flynn?”
“Would you mind having Sweet Tooth deliver an assorted collection of bon-bons? Within the next hour, please.”
Puzzled, Jenna nods. “Sure can. Anything else?”
“Yes… prepare a series of individual cards listing the whiskeys in the bar over there. Nothing fancy, handwritten is fine.”
Flynn intends to recreate what Sawyer saw me do in Nashville, and I guess he wants snacks while he watches.
“This is awesome.” Sawyer grins at Jenna. “You come watch, too, Jenn.”
“Okay. Not sure what I’ll be seeing here, but bon-bons are involved, so I’m in.” She flashes me a smile before turning back to Flynn. “Anything else, boss?”
“That’s all. Thanks, Meyer.” Flynn leans back in his chair, dark eyes watching me.
I return that stare without blinking. I’m pretty good at the bravado game. This man has no idea the numerous assholes I’ve faced in this business. The drunks, the catcalls, the insinuations, the handsy grabs and sneaky fondles I’ve either brushed aside or confronted head on.
All for the chance to do what I love in a field dominated for centuries by the male species.
The whiskey business isn’t for the faint of heart.
Flynn Alexander doesn’t intimidate me.
