“We were just going over the menu,” Matt informs me, oblivious to the blush on my cheeks.
“Yes,” Drew affirms. “CJ made some excellent choices, and everything is coming together nicely.” He doesn’t stop looking at me, and it doesn’t escape Matt’s notice.
“Well, it sounds like we’re in good hands then,” Matt replies with a smirk. “Scott, let’s talk drinks.” Matt gestures toward the bar and they step away. I must be beet red. Matt is so freaking obvious.
“You look …” Drew shakes his head, clearly unsure how to finish the sentence.
I try to resist the pleased smile that’s pulling at my lips. “You too,” I tease.
Drew laughs. “Thanks.”
“Ms. Roberts?” a woman’s voice interrupts.
I look up to see the hostess coming toward me, and my three influencers trailing behind her.
“Ah, yes, thank you,” I respond, putting on my warm, welcoming business smile.
All three join us, and I use Drew’s presence to avoid the handshakes.
“Welcome,” I greet them. “I was just talking to our chef for the evening,” I gesture at Drew. “It’s so nice to see you all. Drew, this is Hannah Hartmann.”
“Heeeeyyy,” Hannah responds with a little wave and a huge grin. She’s in her early thirties, with a beautiful afro that’s as big as her personality and, having talked to her the most this past week, I already like her the best.
“And this is Alyssa Liu.”
Alyssa reaches her hand out for Drew’s, dipping her head to the side so her perfectly styled brown waves cascade over her shoulder. “Hi,” she breathes sexily. And sexy she is in a pink slip of a dress that somehow Drew’s eyes don’t seem to be roving, even if mine are.
My eyes flick up to the last of the trio, who has circled around to stand next to me. And I have to look way, way up. The man is a giant, and he’s grinning down at me through his trademark beard.
“Nash Murphy,” I squeak. I clear my throat and nervously look away, back to Drew. “This is Nash Murphy.” The second time it comes out more confidently, but Drew raises an eyebrow at me. And it makes me blush hard. Again. Shocking, I know. It seems to be my standard response to Drew’s gaze.
Drew and Nash shake hands, and it’s like watching a mini-arm wrestling competition.
“Welcome,” Drew says as he lets go of Nash’s hand and flexes his fingers. “Appetizers will be served shortly, so I need to get back to the kitchen. I hope you all enjoy your evening.”
Drew turns his body toward mine ever so slightly and lightly rests a hand on the small of my back while his mouth drops to my ear. “Especially you,” he says in a low, quiet voice that I have to work to stop my body from shivering at.
When he’s gone, it takes me a moment to find my voice. Thankfully, Matt chooses that moment to join us and introduces himself to our newest additions before taking them to the bar for drinks and a round of selfies ahead of the directors’ arrival. I opt to step onto the patio for some air.
I approach the railing, noting the sun has well and truly set, and a gloriously cool breeze plays off the water. The skies are overcast, but the sight of the bridge lit and looming large is stunning enough. I watch the tiny headlights snaking in both directions across its expanse for a few minutes.
“Quite the view,” a deep voice says, cutting across the patio.
I look up to see Nash approaching, and instantly the butterflies in my stomach are back in full force.
“It is,” I agree quietly. I note his lack of drink. “Do you need another drink?”
He stops alongside me, leaning against the railing. “I don’t drink. Well, alcohol anyway.”
My eyes trail up his fitted, dark gray button-front shirt that does nothing to hide the considerable muscles rippling underneath. When my gaze finally meets his, he’s smiling down at me knowingly. I’m sure he’s constantly being checked out, and I suddenly feel bad for ogling him. But maybe not that bad. He oozes masculinity with his hard body, thick beard, and woodsy smell.
“Too many calories?” I ask curiously. And then my eyes go wide, realizing that might be rude to say.
He chuckles in that deep tone of his, and the butterflies threaten to explode out of my abdomen.
“Nah,” he replies. “Let’s just say personal reasons.”
“Ah,” I reply, feeling like an ass. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”
“Not at all. You have an honest quality about you,” he responds. “I like that.”
I laugh blandly. “Well, stick around, it’s like a disease with me. I can’t help the things that come out of my mouth most of the time.”
There’s that chuckle again. Before he can respond, a waitress appears with a platter of appetizers. I recognize both the oysters and the waitress.
“Hi,” I exclaim. “It’s Anna, right?”
The tiny blonde beams. “Yes,” she agrees. “So nice to see you again.”
“You too,” I reply. “Nash, this is Anna. She saved me from having to choose all the food by myself.”
Anna gives a modest smile.
“Well, then I guess I’d better try it,” Nash says. “If two beautiful women picked it out, it must be good.” With a wink he grabs one, and it’s down the hatch in a blink.
Anna offers the tray in my direction and I shake my head. I’m far too nervous to eat. I’d probably end up throwing it up all over the gorgeous man standing next to me. I wonder why he’s not off talking to Alyssa. They seem far more in each other’s league.
But as Anna retreats, I get an eyeful of why. Matt is standing on the other side of the patio, near the door, holding a nearly empty glass of wine and whispering in Alyssa’s ear. So much for not drinking much. They look awfully cozy, and if I know my brother, he’s doing everything he can to get in her pants before the other directors show up.
I suddenly feel a little ill, so I make my excuses to Nash and head inside. I bump into Anna again, who points me in the direction of the bathroom.
After I’ve splashed some cold water on my face, I feel considerably better. I head to the bar to get a glass of ice water for good measure. The evening is just getting started, and I can’t let my nerves get the best of me.
As Anna walks by me heading toward the kitchen with an empty tray, she leans in. “You okay?” she whispers.
I look up at her with a grateful smile, relaxing the death grip I have on my ice water. “Meh,” I reply honestly.
“I get social anxiety too,” she assures me. “Booze helps.”
I give her a wry smile. “My brother — who is also my boss, by the way — has asked that I not drink,” I explain. “Otherwise I probably would.”
“Pffff,” comes a voice behind Anna. Drew appears at her side, having slid out of the kitchen door so quietly that I didn’t notice him until he was upon us. “Hey, Simon. I need a shot of rum. The good stuff.”
The bartender looks up and gives Drew a quizzical look, but quickly pours the shot and sets it on the bar. Drew gives me a pointed look.
Anna looks nervously between us. And I don’t know if I do it to save face or because they’re right — it’s probably exactly what I need right now — but I sling the shot back without hesitation. Besides, Matt’s drinking even though he’s the one who said we shouldn’t. So what the hell. And I’m not a huge fan of straight shots, but Drew knew what he was doing. It actually tastes pretty good.