Page 63 of The Bourbon Bet
My stomach clenches, the reality of our situation crashing down on me. I force a grin, ignoring the sense of impending doom. “Great. I’m so glad you’ll be able to go,” I lie.
The countdown to Derby Day—to the moment when everything changes—ticks louder. These moments with her feel stolen, borrowed time slipping through my fingers like bourbon through a sieve.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“Time,” I answer honestly. “How there never seems to be enough of it.”
Her eyebrow arches, a question forming in the small furrow between her brows. “For work?”
“For everything that matters.” I swirl the bourbon in my glass. “You know, in distilling, timing is crucial. Rush the process, and you ruin everything. But wait too long, and you miss the perfect moment when everything comes together.”
I am caught between wanting to open myself completely to her and the instinct to retreat behind my carefully constructed facade. The derby party looms like a finish line to a race I’m not sure I’m prepared to run.
“To perfect timing.” I raise my glass to hers, deciding to savor what we have now, even as the clock continues its relentless countdown.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Rosalia
I shiver from the brisk April winds while nodding my thanks to the doorman at the Galt House. Sebastian and I spent hours this afternoon walking the crowded Ohio River, the atmosphere reminding me of summer festivals along Detroit's riverfront, though today's company is far more captivating than any from my past. And the air show and people-watching helped shake the foreboding that had settled over me after that derbyparty invitation.
A giddy rush spreads through me when we reach the glass elevator. “I’m almost as excited to ride in this as I was as a kid.” I’m only half joking.
“Then I’m glad my suite is on the top floor.” He presses the button, pulls out his phone, and types on it with his back to the rising panorama of the Ohio River.
“You’re missing the view.”
“I’ve seen it before.” He keeps his gaze trained on his phone. The casual dismissal stings a little. The luxury surrounding him is nothing new, nothing special—the best hotels, cars, and restaurants are simply his baseline. How does this man whose life is so different from mine feel so right?
The mechanical voice informs us that we’ve arrived, and seconds later, the doors open. Sebastian inserts the electronic key into the door, then steps aside, gesturing for me to enter first.
Wow. His hotel room is larger and better furnished than my apartment, featuring a modern, open-floor plan with a spacious living room and kitchen. To the left are two closed doors, which I assume lead to a bathroom and a bedroom. In front of me is the best part: floor-to-ceiling windows that provide a view of the Louisville skyline.
I rush to the balcony and the setting sun. Opening the sliding door, I take in a four-person bistro table next to the iron railing, and a long couch with comfy looking cushions sits against the window to the suite.
Turning to Sebastian, who’s still standing inside by the sliding door, I point to the couch. “Want to sit here?”
“Definitely.” He sounds relieved. I guess cold iron chairs don’t appeal to him either.
I face the darkening sky. A cold breeze ripples my skirt and I shiver. “I’ll find some blankets,” Sebastian offers from behind me.
Spotting a door at the balcony’s far end, I nod with my chin. “I’ll check in there.”
A knock comes from inside the room. “That’s probably our food and drinks,” Sebastian tells me.
My stomach rumbles in approval. “When did you do that?” I ask.
“I set it up before we went out this afternoon.”
I’m touched by his foresight, the way he’s planned for our comfort without making a fuss about it.
I backtrack, hugging him. “You’re such a thoughtful man.” Even through our clothes, his solid warmth and the subtle scent of his cologne make my head spin.
He kisses my temple quickly before retreating into the suite. The brief contact of his lips against my skin leaves a lingering warmth that spreads across my face. I press my fingertips to my lips, shaking off the sudden flare-up of longing.
I find two fleece blankets in a closet on the balcony and drape them over the couch as a waitress enters with a rolling table, Sebastian right behind her.
“Good evening,” the woman says. “My name is Jenny, and I’ll be your concierge for the evening.”The formal service is foreign to me, and I don’t know how to reply. I settle for an awkward smile and turn my attention to the vast collection of plates, each one concealed beneath a shining silver dome. “Are other people joining us?” I half-joke. My heart dips. What if he had invited others? I want him all to myself.
