Accidentally in Love, page 17
“Yeah,” Sam said as they sat, but then she frowned. “Maybe. I probably focus on work too much.”
“Okay, good. I mean, not that you’re overworking yourself, but good that you recognize that as something you need to think about. You’re taking a proactive approach to things and you’re doing what needs to be done for your health, too. That’s something to be proud of. At least, that’s what my therapist tells me.”
Sam was surprised—he was in therapy? “I didn’t know you talked to someone.”
“Reid suggested I go because Cassie suggested he go, and he’s learned a lot. He goes in person, but I just use an app. It’s usually easier for me to text my feelings.” He wormed a smile out of her with that one. “Have you ever talked to a counselor or anything?”
“Yeah, at first I started going because my mom really wanted me to try it when I was stressed about finding a job after college, and then again when stuff progressed with my thyroid, so I did it to get her off my back. But then I actually started opening up and it was helpful.” Sam didn’t confess that it had been a while since she last went. Maybe she should go back.
“That’s good. Did you ever talk about me?”
Sam gave him what she hoped was her most lethal side-eye. “Do you talk about me?”
“Maybe.”
“Then maybe for me, too.” Sam stood up and started walking again, throwing her now empty coffee cup in a recycling bin. Russ followed suit and then took her hand.
They walked in silence for a while, both slowing down as they neared her apartment building. Their neighborhood was getting busier as the night crowds came out to go to dinner and then to bars after that. Sam assumed Kit would be gone when she got home—already at either Simone’s or Bugles with everyone else. But she knew after the day she’d had, and the way she had opened up to Russ, she needed a quiet night.
She had shared her concerns about her body and feeling overwhelmed at work with Russ—thoughts she hadn’t even discussed with her usual confidants, her mom and Kit. She was sure this probably wasn’t supposed to be a part of the sexy summer plan Russ had in mind, but he was a good listener. Sam liked that he didn’t press her for more information but paid attention to her while she spoke. He made her feel comfortable. Like she could trust him.
But Sam knew, after seeing her dad leave whenever he wanted while she grew up, that Russ’s plan to go to New York would break her heart after Labor Day. She didn’t want to set herself up for disappointment. Sam decided then that she was going to focus on this being exactly what they said it was—a fling. She’d focus on finding ways to make herself, and Russ, feel good. This fling could be a much-needed stress reliever and something to look forward to after the long hours they would both be pulling at work. And things were bound to get better if they could make good on their idea of having some much-needed, no-strings fun.
Finally reaching her street, Sam didn’t want things to end just yet. She wanted this exciting-but-calming sojourn to continue. She suggested they go to the small courtyard near her building.
“Thanks for walking me home,” she said, sitting on an elevated curb that protected the shrubs near an entryway. Sam liked to sit there and people watch every so often. The sun was almost set, and the warmth of the day was giving way to cool, dusky twilight. Sam loved this time of the evening and enjoyed looking at Russ as shadows from the building and trees in the alcove flitted across his face.
“No problem,” Russ said, sitting down next to her. His dopey grin was back, and she wondered what he was thinking about. “I like spending time with you and just talking, in addition to other things.” He ran a finger up the side of her thigh closest to his, and Sam shivered.
“About earlier,” Sam said, putting a hand on his forearm. “I liked that, too, but maybe it was a good thing we had to cut things short.”
Russ nodded, the smile leaving his face, but he didn’t look upset. He looked like he understood. “I want to have fun with you this summer, but we can slow down a bit.”
“And do other things,” Sam said, recalling what she had said to him earlier that day.
“I’d like to invite you over to my place,” Russ said abruptly but definitively. “For dinner.”
A one-on-one private encounter with Russ to make up for their horrendous attempt at a first date? Sam was intrigued. “Tell me more.”
“I actually took next weekend off. With things so crazy at the restaurant and taking on the food truck, I need a break before things ramp up again. So maybe once you’re done with the Do Division fest, you could come by, and I could make you dinner. And we could hang out.”
“I could possibly be available for some such thing.”
“Cool. Just give me a heads-up before you come over,” Russ said, looking very pleased with himself.
“Will I see you at the artist mixer in a few days?” Sam asked.
Russ nodded eagerly. “I’ll be working the bar, but I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
They stood to part ways. He kissed her then, good and proper.
FOURTEEN
Work had been a slog for Russ. As lead bartender, he had to keep everyone focused, especially during busy times of service. Plus, planning out new menus and juggling busy summer schedules for the food truck team at upcoming street fests also kept Russ occupied. And he kept taking extra line cook shifts whenever possible, because he was still convinced getting as much experience as possible in a real, functioning kitchen would give him some kind of a leg up before he went to culinary school. He wanted to be as prepared as he could for New York.
His true motivation to get through another grueling workweek was knowing that at the end of it, he was going to spend time with Sam. At his apartment. Alone.
Their time together in the photobus over Memorial Day weekend had been unbelievable. Sam’s brazen striptease was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. She was bold, confident, and had to know how wild she drove him. And almost getting caught . . . well, that had been exhilarating, too.
But what Russ thought about even more than the sight of Sam’s amazing, luscious, almost-naked body, was the way they talked together for hours on the walk back to her apartment. Most of it was chitchat, but when she told him about how she felt about her body and all the things she had gone through with her thyroid surgery, plus her feelings about her family, Russ felt closer to her. Opening up about changes wasn’t easy, and Sam had told him some deeply personal things. He liked being her confidant. And he liked telling her about going to therapy and how beneficial he had found it.
He still hadn’t told his therapist about emailing his mom, though, or that he hoped she’d reply, but those messages were sort of like a journal, so he said he was journaling instead. He’d get there eventually.
A few days after the Simone’s food truck debut at the Randolph Street Flea Market—deemed a total success by all involved—Russ was gearing up for the Buxom Boudoir artist mixer. They were shutting down regular service on the rooftop for the night; almost eighty people had RSVP’d yes to the event.
He saw Sam in a passing blur in the days leading up to the mixer, short moments when she was dropping off supplies, talking to the hosts about how to rearrange tables, and chatting with Gabby about the finalized menu. They decided on heavy appetizers and a couple signature drinks—including a champagne cocktail and whiskey sour, of course. Gabby and Sam had put a twist on the food to make it slightly terrifying yet enticing, much like all the women in charge of that night’s festivities. Chicken wings with toothpicks skewered through them, steeped in a deep red balsamic vinaigrette that looked like blood dripping from the puncture; lemon halibut trapped in squid ink pasta nests served with tiny forks sticking out of the fish; phyllo cups filled with steak tartare formed to look like little brains topped with fresh avocado; thumbprint cookies filled with blackberry jam, so smashed and messy that they honestly looked like little crime scenes . . .
The bar was at capacity from the start. In fact, it felt like most of the attendees decided to get to Simone’s early and take advantage of a beautiful evening on the rooftop bar. Between that and the draw of mingling with both Dana Hayes and Cassandra Harris, not to mention the rest of the heavily lauded BB team, Chicago’s art scenesters had shown up in spades. Cassie could always use galleries, new murals, and other art installations as backdrops for photo shoots, so these connections were important for BB. Additionally, she was also a curator for her mother’s side business as a gallery owner, and their shows resulted in big sales numbers for the artists showcasing their work. On top of that, Cassie’s photography business was booming, expanding beyond the usual clients for imitable boudoir photographs to include catering brochures, engagement photo shoots, entertainment websites, bridal magazines, and high-end editorial work at the national level—all applying Cassie’s signature natural light aesthetic. Cassie’s profile, and therefore Buxom Boudoir’s, was on the rise.
The average consumer might not notice who the photo assistant was in the fine print, but Russ knew the name noted was Samantha Sawyer on most of these photo shoots, and soon they would read lead stylist. Russ was proud of her.
* * *
With the who’s who of Chicago’s art elite, along with local authors, arts and culture reporters, and local influencers, Simone’s was going to get a boost from this mixer, too, and Russ was excited to be the main bartender on hand for the night.
Mixing a modified French 75 with blood orange liquor instead of lemon juice, Russ felt his eyes looking toward the stairs of the rooftop bar for the umpteenth time in fifteen minutes. After they had finished setting everything up and made sure the projectors were in place to showcase some of the artists attending that night, the women of Buxom Boudoir had retreated to their studio to get ready. They promised to be back before the start of the party, but this was cutting it close. Russ hoped everything was all right and nothing had gone amiss in the short time they had been away.
What are you so worried about? It’s not like he hadn’t seen Sam since the flea market or their long walk home together.
Russ shook his head, bringing himself out of his thoughts and back to concentrating on the drinks in front of him. He tried to lose himself in the rhythm of shaking, stirring, and garnishing, when he heard a familiar cackle of laughter.
“It’s all so quaint,” Dana all but shouted as she entered the room. “They’re fine, I understand why people move there, but it’s quiet and small and different.”
Russ remembered Sam telling him about Dana’s impending move to the suburbs so her wife, Riki, could open a new location of the popular bar and restaurant Bugles, which had been a staple in River North for years and flourished under Riki’s guidance.
“No one will ever convince me to leave Chicago,” Kit said, looping her arm with Dana’s as they walked in. “Although I love nothing more than an American barbecue, and you will have a backyard now, Dana . . .”
“You love looking at men in shorts,” Sam said, completely deadpan.
“Cargo shorts are my weakness. They’re so unnecessary,” Kit said, giggling. “Russell, our libation lucky charm, how are you?” They had reached the bar and now all stood in front of him, looking at Russ like he hadn’t been there the entire time. A flurry of activity always followed the women of BB.
“Can’t complain, Kit. How are you all tonight? Ready for this event?”
“As we’ll ever be, baby boy,” Cassie said. “Sam, are we all on the clock at this event, or can I have one of these amazing drinks Russ made?”
“Let’s start out for a while on our best behavior,” Sam said, rolling her eyes at the groans of protest from her friends. “But once we’re done talking business with everyone, we can definitely let loose.”
Russ pretended to be very dedicated to slicing more blood oranges for garnish when Sam stayed at the bar while the rest of her cohorts dispersed.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi, hello, uh, how are you?” Russ said, clearly playing it real cool.
“You’re not working this alone, are you?” Sam asked, surveying the large bar Russ was behind.
“No, we have another bartender coming up, but I wanted to get a head start with the signature cocktails, so they’ll be ready right when your guests arrive,” Russ explained. “Plus, there will be two servers taking orders and running drinks, and three more with food.”
“Perfect,” Sam said, slumping down and resting her elbows on the bar. “It has been a hellish week and it’s only Wednesday.”
Russ made a show of looking both ways, which made Sam’s dark brown eyes dart around. Then he slid one of the whiskey drinks he had made toward her. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Sam smiled, glancing down at the cocktail in front of her. “I probably shouldn’t, since I am in charge and all.”
“Well, at least try one, so I know it tastes all right,” Russ said. He knew the drinks tasted great, but he’d do anything to keep her by the bar so they could steal a few moments together before things started in earnest.
Sam took a small sip, her eyes widening as she swallowed, and then she took another sip. “Russell, this is delicious. It’s a classic whiskey sour, but better. Enhanced or something. What’s in it?”
“It’s a honey syrup instead of the expected simple syrup,” Russ replied, pleased that she liked the change. “It reminded me of you.”
Sam paused before taking another small sip, then set the drink back down. “Why? Because I’m so sweet?” She gave him a stern look, but Russ saw it was tinged with a smile.
“You’re a little sticky, but you are quite sweet,” he said, leaning toward her. “A total classic with a sharp edge.”
“Perhaps only to people who make drinks about me,” Sam said, looking at Russ through her long eyelashes. A moment passed between them but was interrupted by the other bartender and servers finally coming up. “Looks like things are about to officially begin.”
“Good luck tonight,” Russ said.
Before leaving, Sam leaned over the bar, and Russ couldn’t stop himself from leaning close to her as well. The way she did it, she had to know that the way her cleavage strained against the deep V-neck of her dress was driving him wild, and he was thankful that his lower half was hidden behind the bar at the moment. “Knowing we’re hanging out this weekend is the only thing getting me through this week,” she said in a low voice, softly placing her hand on his arm. Before Russ could do something rash like take her hand and kiss it, Sam had walked away.
Only then did he realize she was wearing a dress he’d never seen her in before. He wasn’t sure she’d ever worn a dress around him, aside from the red lingerie she wore at the costume party, but Russ wasn’t sure that really counted as a dress. This little black dress somehow both fluttered over her body as she moved and then hugged every curve when she stood still, and the way it seemed to cup her ass just so was going to be a problem for his concentration all night.
“Russ?” Hazel snapped her fingers in quick succession in front of Russ’s face. “I asked if these drinks are ready?”
Russ nodded, gathering up the ingredients for the next batch of sweet whiskey sours.
“Everything all right?” Hazel asked, following his gaze and smiling. “Oh, I see. You and Sam are still ‘you and Sam.’ ” She hooked her fingers in air quotes around the repeated words.
Russ rolled his eyes but felt himself grinning. “It’s not what you think.”
Hazel put her hands on her hips. “I’m the BB gals’ preferred server. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you two look each other over every time they’re in here.” Hoisting up a heavy tray of drinks, Hazel nodded a quick goodbye to Russ before he could find a way to rebut what she said. But he had to admit, Hazel was right. And if he had a chance, tonight could be the right time to take their proposed summer fling to the next level.
FIFTEEN
Knowing that Russ was watching her move across the room gave Sam stomach butterflies. Sam had bought this new dress on a whim while walking through the neighborhood on an office supply run the day before, and for the first time in a while she decided to indulge on clothing. She saw it in the window of one of her favorite boutiques and bought it in her new size without trying it on, before she talked herself out of buying something nice for herself. Back at the office, Sam tried on the dress in the bathroom and thought she looked pretty—a welcome feeling when it came to her appearance. It was formfitting but draped beautifully, and the deep neckline revealed a little more than she was used to, but she knew she’d still be able to wear a pair of combat boots, and the silky fabric would look great juxtaposed with her tough footwear.
And after the way Russ was still staring at her when she turned back around as she reached the other side of the rooftop, Sam was pleased she had splurged on the new dress. She took a deep breath before focusing on the night ahead. Just as she was about to brief the team on the plan for networking and collecting info from potential partners, Cassie started talking.
“All right, pals, let’s have fun tonight and make some really great connections,” Cassie said, pumping them all up for the night. “Do we want to divide and conquer or just mingle naturally?”
Sam frowned at this question. Buxom Boudoir was Cassie’s company, and Sam didn’t want to overstep. But now that she was lead stylist as well as still doing all her duties from when she was office manager, Sam decided this was the time to show her coworkers—who were also her dearest friends—why she deserved her recent promotion and why they continually turned to her for direction.
“I actually sent around an email update about this yesterday,” she said, pulling out her phone and opening her inbox. “I thought we’d divvy things up for at least the first hour or so, then we can walk around, interact with each other, and share what we found out as people move through the party.” Sam handed her phone to Cassie. Dana and Kit both had their phones out to read the email, seeing where they would be stationed for the party.
“Okay, good. I mean, not that you’re overworking yourself, but good that you recognize that as something you need to think about. You’re taking a proactive approach to things and you’re doing what needs to be done for your health, too. That’s something to be proud of. At least, that’s what my therapist tells me.”
Sam was surprised—he was in therapy? “I didn’t know you talked to someone.”
“Reid suggested I go because Cassie suggested he go, and he’s learned a lot. He goes in person, but I just use an app. It’s usually easier for me to text my feelings.” He wormed a smile out of her with that one. “Have you ever talked to a counselor or anything?”
“Yeah, at first I started going because my mom really wanted me to try it when I was stressed about finding a job after college, and then again when stuff progressed with my thyroid, so I did it to get her off my back. But then I actually started opening up and it was helpful.” Sam didn’t confess that it had been a while since she last went. Maybe she should go back.
“That’s good. Did you ever talk about me?”
Sam gave him what she hoped was her most lethal side-eye. “Do you talk about me?”
“Maybe.”
“Then maybe for me, too.” Sam stood up and started walking again, throwing her now empty coffee cup in a recycling bin. Russ followed suit and then took her hand.
They walked in silence for a while, both slowing down as they neared her apartment building. Their neighborhood was getting busier as the night crowds came out to go to dinner and then to bars after that. Sam assumed Kit would be gone when she got home—already at either Simone’s or Bugles with everyone else. But she knew after the day she’d had, and the way she had opened up to Russ, she needed a quiet night.
She had shared her concerns about her body and feeling overwhelmed at work with Russ—thoughts she hadn’t even discussed with her usual confidants, her mom and Kit. She was sure this probably wasn’t supposed to be a part of the sexy summer plan Russ had in mind, but he was a good listener. Sam liked that he didn’t press her for more information but paid attention to her while she spoke. He made her feel comfortable. Like she could trust him.
But Sam knew, after seeing her dad leave whenever he wanted while she grew up, that Russ’s plan to go to New York would break her heart after Labor Day. She didn’t want to set herself up for disappointment. Sam decided then that she was going to focus on this being exactly what they said it was—a fling. She’d focus on finding ways to make herself, and Russ, feel good. This fling could be a much-needed stress reliever and something to look forward to after the long hours they would both be pulling at work. And things were bound to get better if they could make good on their idea of having some much-needed, no-strings fun.
Finally reaching her street, Sam didn’t want things to end just yet. She wanted this exciting-but-calming sojourn to continue. She suggested they go to the small courtyard near her building.
“Thanks for walking me home,” she said, sitting on an elevated curb that protected the shrubs near an entryway. Sam liked to sit there and people watch every so often. The sun was almost set, and the warmth of the day was giving way to cool, dusky twilight. Sam loved this time of the evening and enjoyed looking at Russ as shadows from the building and trees in the alcove flitted across his face.
“No problem,” Russ said, sitting down next to her. His dopey grin was back, and she wondered what he was thinking about. “I like spending time with you and just talking, in addition to other things.” He ran a finger up the side of her thigh closest to his, and Sam shivered.
“About earlier,” Sam said, putting a hand on his forearm. “I liked that, too, but maybe it was a good thing we had to cut things short.”
Russ nodded, the smile leaving his face, but he didn’t look upset. He looked like he understood. “I want to have fun with you this summer, but we can slow down a bit.”
“And do other things,” Sam said, recalling what she had said to him earlier that day.
“I’d like to invite you over to my place,” Russ said abruptly but definitively. “For dinner.”
A one-on-one private encounter with Russ to make up for their horrendous attempt at a first date? Sam was intrigued. “Tell me more.”
“I actually took next weekend off. With things so crazy at the restaurant and taking on the food truck, I need a break before things ramp up again. So maybe once you’re done with the Do Division fest, you could come by, and I could make you dinner. And we could hang out.”
“I could possibly be available for some such thing.”
“Cool. Just give me a heads-up before you come over,” Russ said, looking very pleased with himself.
“Will I see you at the artist mixer in a few days?” Sam asked.
Russ nodded eagerly. “I’ll be working the bar, but I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
They stood to part ways. He kissed her then, good and proper.
FOURTEEN
Work had been a slog for Russ. As lead bartender, he had to keep everyone focused, especially during busy times of service. Plus, planning out new menus and juggling busy summer schedules for the food truck team at upcoming street fests also kept Russ occupied. And he kept taking extra line cook shifts whenever possible, because he was still convinced getting as much experience as possible in a real, functioning kitchen would give him some kind of a leg up before he went to culinary school. He wanted to be as prepared as he could for New York.
His true motivation to get through another grueling workweek was knowing that at the end of it, he was going to spend time with Sam. At his apartment. Alone.
Their time together in the photobus over Memorial Day weekend had been unbelievable. Sam’s brazen striptease was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. She was bold, confident, and had to know how wild she drove him. And almost getting caught . . . well, that had been exhilarating, too.
But what Russ thought about even more than the sight of Sam’s amazing, luscious, almost-naked body, was the way they talked together for hours on the walk back to her apartment. Most of it was chitchat, but when she told him about how she felt about her body and all the things she had gone through with her thyroid surgery, plus her feelings about her family, Russ felt closer to her. Opening up about changes wasn’t easy, and Sam had told him some deeply personal things. He liked being her confidant. And he liked telling her about going to therapy and how beneficial he had found it.
He still hadn’t told his therapist about emailing his mom, though, or that he hoped she’d reply, but those messages were sort of like a journal, so he said he was journaling instead. He’d get there eventually.
A few days after the Simone’s food truck debut at the Randolph Street Flea Market—deemed a total success by all involved—Russ was gearing up for the Buxom Boudoir artist mixer. They were shutting down regular service on the rooftop for the night; almost eighty people had RSVP’d yes to the event.
He saw Sam in a passing blur in the days leading up to the mixer, short moments when she was dropping off supplies, talking to the hosts about how to rearrange tables, and chatting with Gabby about the finalized menu. They decided on heavy appetizers and a couple signature drinks—including a champagne cocktail and whiskey sour, of course. Gabby and Sam had put a twist on the food to make it slightly terrifying yet enticing, much like all the women in charge of that night’s festivities. Chicken wings with toothpicks skewered through them, steeped in a deep red balsamic vinaigrette that looked like blood dripping from the puncture; lemon halibut trapped in squid ink pasta nests served with tiny forks sticking out of the fish; phyllo cups filled with steak tartare formed to look like little brains topped with fresh avocado; thumbprint cookies filled with blackberry jam, so smashed and messy that they honestly looked like little crime scenes . . .
The bar was at capacity from the start. In fact, it felt like most of the attendees decided to get to Simone’s early and take advantage of a beautiful evening on the rooftop bar. Between that and the draw of mingling with both Dana Hayes and Cassandra Harris, not to mention the rest of the heavily lauded BB team, Chicago’s art scenesters had shown up in spades. Cassie could always use galleries, new murals, and other art installations as backdrops for photo shoots, so these connections were important for BB. Additionally, she was also a curator for her mother’s side business as a gallery owner, and their shows resulted in big sales numbers for the artists showcasing their work. On top of that, Cassie’s photography business was booming, expanding beyond the usual clients for imitable boudoir photographs to include catering brochures, engagement photo shoots, entertainment websites, bridal magazines, and high-end editorial work at the national level—all applying Cassie’s signature natural light aesthetic. Cassie’s profile, and therefore Buxom Boudoir’s, was on the rise.
The average consumer might not notice who the photo assistant was in the fine print, but Russ knew the name noted was Samantha Sawyer on most of these photo shoots, and soon they would read lead stylist. Russ was proud of her.
* * *
With the who’s who of Chicago’s art elite, along with local authors, arts and culture reporters, and local influencers, Simone’s was going to get a boost from this mixer, too, and Russ was excited to be the main bartender on hand for the night.
Mixing a modified French 75 with blood orange liquor instead of lemon juice, Russ felt his eyes looking toward the stairs of the rooftop bar for the umpteenth time in fifteen minutes. After they had finished setting everything up and made sure the projectors were in place to showcase some of the artists attending that night, the women of Buxom Boudoir had retreated to their studio to get ready. They promised to be back before the start of the party, but this was cutting it close. Russ hoped everything was all right and nothing had gone amiss in the short time they had been away.
What are you so worried about? It’s not like he hadn’t seen Sam since the flea market or their long walk home together.
Russ shook his head, bringing himself out of his thoughts and back to concentrating on the drinks in front of him. He tried to lose himself in the rhythm of shaking, stirring, and garnishing, when he heard a familiar cackle of laughter.
“It’s all so quaint,” Dana all but shouted as she entered the room. “They’re fine, I understand why people move there, but it’s quiet and small and different.”
Russ remembered Sam telling him about Dana’s impending move to the suburbs so her wife, Riki, could open a new location of the popular bar and restaurant Bugles, which had been a staple in River North for years and flourished under Riki’s guidance.
“No one will ever convince me to leave Chicago,” Kit said, looping her arm with Dana’s as they walked in. “Although I love nothing more than an American barbecue, and you will have a backyard now, Dana . . .”
“You love looking at men in shorts,” Sam said, completely deadpan.
“Cargo shorts are my weakness. They’re so unnecessary,” Kit said, giggling. “Russell, our libation lucky charm, how are you?” They had reached the bar and now all stood in front of him, looking at Russ like he hadn’t been there the entire time. A flurry of activity always followed the women of BB.
“Can’t complain, Kit. How are you all tonight? Ready for this event?”
“As we’ll ever be, baby boy,” Cassie said. “Sam, are we all on the clock at this event, or can I have one of these amazing drinks Russ made?”
“Let’s start out for a while on our best behavior,” Sam said, rolling her eyes at the groans of protest from her friends. “But once we’re done talking business with everyone, we can definitely let loose.”
Russ pretended to be very dedicated to slicing more blood oranges for garnish when Sam stayed at the bar while the rest of her cohorts dispersed.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi, hello, uh, how are you?” Russ said, clearly playing it real cool.
“You’re not working this alone, are you?” Sam asked, surveying the large bar Russ was behind.
“No, we have another bartender coming up, but I wanted to get a head start with the signature cocktails, so they’ll be ready right when your guests arrive,” Russ explained. “Plus, there will be two servers taking orders and running drinks, and three more with food.”
“Perfect,” Sam said, slumping down and resting her elbows on the bar. “It has been a hellish week and it’s only Wednesday.”
Russ made a show of looking both ways, which made Sam’s dark brown eyes dart around. Then he slid one of the whiskey drinks he had made toward her. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Sam smiled, glancing down at the cocktail in front of her. “I probably shouldn’t, since I am in charge and all.”
“Well, at least try one, so I know it tastes all right,” Russ said. He knew the drinks tasted great, but he’d do anything to keep her by the bar so they could steal a few moments together before things started in earnest.
Sam took a small sip, her eyes widening as she swallowed, and then she took another sip. “Russell, this is delicious. It’s a classic whiskey sour, but better. Enhanced or something. What’s in it?”
“It’s a honey syrup instead of the expected simple syrup,” Russ replied, pleased that she liked the change. “It reminded me of you.”
Sam paused before taking another small sip, then set the drink back down. “Why? Because I’m so sweet?” She gave him a stern look, but Russ saw it was tinged with a smile.
“You’re a little sticky, but you are quite sweet,” he said, leaning toward her. “A total classic with a sharp edge.”
“Perhaps only to people who make drinks about me,” Sam said, looking at Russ through her long eyelashes. A moment passed between them but was interrupted by the other bartender and servers finally coming up. “Looks like things are about to officially begin.”
“Good luck tonight,” Russ said.
Before leaving, Sam leaned over the bar, and Russ couldn’t stop himself from leaning close to her as well. The way she did it, she had to know that the way her cleavage strained against the deep V-neck of her dress was driving him wild, and he was thankful that his lower half was hidden behind the bar at the moment. “Knowing we’re hanging out this weekend is the only thing getting me through this week,” she said in a low voice, softly placing her hand on his arm. Before Russ could do something rash like take her hand and kiss it, Sam had walked away.
Only then did he realize she was wearing a dress he’d never seen her in before. He wasn’t sure she’d ever worn a dress around him, aside from the red lingerie she wore at the costume party, but Russ wasn’t sure that really counted as a dress. This little black dress somehow both fluttered over her body as she moved and then hugged every curve when she stood still, and the way it seemed to cup her ass just so was going to be a problem for his concentration all night.
“Russ?” Hazel snapped her fingers in quick succession in front of Russ’s face. “I asked if these drinks are ready?”
Russ nodded, gathering up the ingredients for the next batch of sweet whiskey sours.
“Everything all right?” Hazel asked, following his gaze and smiling. “Oh, I see. You and Sam are still ‘you and Sam.’ ” She hooked her fingers in air quotes around the repeated words.
Russ rolled his eyes but felt himself grinning. “It’s not what you think.”
Hazel put her hands on her hips. “I’m the BB gals’ preferred server. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you two look each other over every time they’re in here.” Hoisting up a heavy tray of drinks, Hazel nodded a quick goodbye to Russ before he could find a way to rebut what she said. But he had to admit, Hazel was right. And if he had a chance, tonight could be the right time to take their proposed summer fling to the next level.
FIFTEEN
Knowing that Russ was watching her move across the room gave Sam stomach butterflies. Sam had bought this new dress on a whim while walking through the neighborhood on an office supply run the day before, and for the first time in a while she decided to indulge on clothing. She saw it in the window of one of her favorite boutiques and bought it in her new size without trying it on, before she talked herself out of buying something nice for herself. Back at the office, Sam tried on the dress in the bathroom and thought she looked pretty—a welcome feeling when it came to her appearance. It was formfitting but draped beautifully, and the deep neckline revealed a little more than she was used to, but she knew she’d still be able to wear a pair of combat boots, and the silky fabric would look great juxtaposed with her tough footwear.
And after the way Russ was still staring at her when she turned back around as she reached the other side of the rooftop, Sam was pleased she had splurged on the new dress. She took a deep breath before focusing on the night ahead. Just as she was about to brief the team on the plan for networking and collecting info from potential partners, Cassie started talking.
“All right, pals, let’s have fun tonight and make some really great connections,” Cassie said, pumping them all up for the night. “Do we want to divide and conquer or just mingle naturally?”
Sam frowned at this question. Buxom Boudoir was Cassie’s company, and Sam didn’t want to overstep. But now that she was lead stylist as well as still doing all her duties from when she was office manager, Sam decided this was the time to show her coworkers—who were also her dearest friends—why she deserved her recent promotion and why they continually turned to her for direction.
“I actually sent around an email update about this yesterday,” she said, pulling out her phone and opening her inbox. “I thought we’d divvy things up for at least the first hour or so, then we can walk around, interact with each other, and share what we found out as people move through the party.” Sam handed her phone to Cassie. Dana and Kit both had their phones out to read the email, seeing where they would be stationed for the party.
