He’d simply smiled, pulled her close, and said that was just fine with him, that he didn’t need kids as long as he had her, that they would be their own family.
Maybe he’d lied. Or maybe he’d changed his mind, and instead of talking to her about his change of heart had decided to go back to his ex-girlfriend, who probably had more maternal instincts in her pinkie than Taylor had in her entire body.
The printer had already started and finished its whirring with Taylor’s much smaller print job, and she walked toward it, gathering the presentation materials for the meeting. Bradley’s meeting.
God, she was an idiot. For getting involved with a colleague. Who was involved with another colleague. What soap opera nonsense.
But more than anything, she was irritated with herself for getting involved with a man who didn’t know what he wanted, or when he wanted it.
Taylor turned to face Jessica, meeting the other woman’s gaze. “Your boyfriend’s sort of a shit. But I think you’re already figuring that out on your own.”
Jessica’s lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t reply.
Taylor headed toward the door, and this time Jessica let her go without calling her back.
Just as well. There was nothing more to be said. She could only hope that Jessica saw the light about Bradley sooner rather than later.
As for Taylor?
She was done. All the way done. Finally.
Chapter 13
Nick didn’t usually work Tuesday nights, and the bartender he was filling in for had assured him that it would be slow.
She’d lied.
There was a convention at the hotel, which meant that the bar had been packed from the second Nick had started his shift at four, and was even busier at six-thirty.
It wasn’t his sort of crowd. Mostly corporate types who wanted to get wasted fast to numb themselves after whatever boring conference bullshit they’d had to sit through all day. No appreciation for the nuances of a well-made cocktail. They wanted lots of vodka martinis, which most bartenders struggled to make without an eye roll. A real martini was gin.
But whatever. The tips were good, the patrons mostly patient as Nick mixed drink after drink, poured wine and more wine, until finally the drink-needy group surrounding the bar had dissipated somewhat. Increasingly tipsy patrons broke into groups and settled into the cushy seating areas apart from the bar, where the well-trained cocktail waitresses could take their orders.
It left Nick to his domain, those seated at the mahogany bar itself. He scanned from left to right as he chugged a glass of ice water. The trio of hot girls in the corner were all set with their champagne, the awkward couple on their first date had their red wine and Manhattan, a handful of conference participants nursed gin and tonics. The elderly Mrs. Bay sipped her usual Scotch, another couple was still looking over the cocktail menu, and…
Nick froze when he saw the newcomer. She must have slipped in during the height of the rush. It wasn’t the fact that he had no idea how long he’d left her sitting there without a drink that bothered him.
It was the fact that the gorgeous woman sitting at the far side of his bar watching him with a slight smirk was none other than Taylor Carr.
Her smirk softened to a real smile when their eyes met, and he found himself smiling back as he set his glass aside and walked toward her.
Nick leaned on the bar, bracing on his forearms. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
She laughed. “Nice line, Ballantine. No wonder you’re single.”
“I’m single because my roommate’s cramping my style.”
Taylor leaned forward. “She sounds like a real bitch.”
He smiled. “She can be.”
Taylor’s smile dimmed just slightly. “She doesn’t mean to be.”
Nick resisted the urge to touch her hand. To soothe. “I suspect she’s got her reasons.”
“Nice euphemism. Perhaps your moves aren’t so bad after all.”
“My cocktail moves are even better. Can I get you something?”
“How about an Ice Princess? Wasn’t that my trademark cocktail once upon a time?”
Nick’s head tipped back slightly in surprise. “That bothers you. Still?”
She looked away.
This time he did touch her hand. “It was a year ago. I’d known you for all of thirty seconds.”
“It was spot-on, though,” she said. “And not the first time I’d heard it, either.”
Aha. That’s why his off-the-cuff comment had bugged her so much. He’d struck a nerve.
“Whoever said that to you didn’t know you. Not really.”
She studied him for a moment, and he was absolutely not ready for her next question. “That time I asked you to dinner. You were seeing someone. Who?”
Nick pulled his hand back and stood. “Damn. What’s with the trip down memory lane tonight?”
“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if our timing had been different?”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, then forced himself to look back at her. “Sure. Sure, all the time.”
Their gazes locked for a long moment before she shook her head slightly and blew out a breath. “All right, Ballantine. Make me a drink. No more Ice Princess.”
“Sidecarr,” he corrected. “And it was on the menu for several months.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “You put a drink named after me on the menu?”
Nick shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “Sure. Recommended it to everyone I didn’t like.”
She laughed. “Okay, now you’re definitely buying me this drink. And it had better be good.”
Nick grinned, stopping to get the indecisive couple their drink order before making Taylor’s. After all that stalling, the couple opted to go with a glass of chardonnay and a boring vodka rocks.
Just as well. Gave Nick more time to figure out what to make for Taylor.
It seemed somehow important that he get this right. He settled for another of his original recipes, a mixture of mezcal, lemon, Campari, and an unexpected touch of mint. The result was potent, smoky, tart, yet somehow perfectly refreshing.
Not unlike the woman he was serving it to.
She took a careful taste, then a second. “What is this?”
Nick shrugged. “Haven’t come up with a name yet. That’s the hardest part. Gotta get it right.”
She sipped again, and her genuine smile warmed him more than he cared to admit.
But, being Taylor, she refused to compliment him out loud, instead nodding toward one end of the bar. “Guys over there need a refill.”
Nick glanced over, and sure enough, the gin and tonic crew was clearly giving him the “another round” look.
Damn. Nick prided himself on being one step ahead of his patrons’ drink needs.
There was no question as to what—who—was distracting him.
Nick served up the gin and tonics and did another preemptive round on his other clients, feeling Taylor’s eyes on him the entire time.
When he made his way back to her, he half expected that her interest in talking to him would have waned, or that she would have turned her attention to her phone, as most singletons at the bar tended to do.