“Well, thank you for your help,” Mrs. Warkowski said. “I don’t know what I would have done without my show and my Matt. When you get to be my age, it’s the little things, you know? Probably seems silly to someone like you.”
The sentiment hit home, because she was right. The little things did matter. They made the difference in whether your day was a good one or bad one. She hoped she’d helped make Mrs. Warkowski’s day good. “It’s not silly at all. And you can knock whenever you need something.”
This seemed to make Mrs. Warkowski very happy, but she was quick to rein it in. “Oh, I’ll try not to bother you unless it’s an emergency like this morning.”
Hope smiled at the categorization of the word. “Have a good day today.”
“You too, Hope. Be careful in that big, bad world.”
But the day hadn’t stopped there. Her walk to work, which was normally a pretty mundane few blocks, had been noticeably hijacked.
“Where you been?” a little guy in a backward baseball cap asked, falling into stride with her as she walked. Hope regarded him but said nothing, figuring he must have been talking to someone else. “You deaf all of a sudden?”
“We don’t know each other,” she informed him and continued walking.
“We sure did last week,” he said, grabbing her arm rather forcefully. It took everything she had not to deck the guy in the face.
“Look, you have me confused with someone else.” And she knew exactly who he’d confused her with, and she didn’t like it one bit. What was Kara mixed up in now? She shrugged out of his grip. “I’ve never met you in my life. I’m sorry. Now leave me the hell alone before I call 9-1-1.” The guy hung back as she continued walking, but she heard his voice loudly behind her.
“This isn’t over. You know we’ll be back!” Perfect, she thought to herself. Just perfect.
So it hadn’t been the most peaceful of mornings, but she was doing her best to get back on track as she readied Showplace for opening. As she took stock of supplies behind the bar, she caught a flash of beige in her peripheral and turned to see Mallory enter the bar wearing a cream-colored business suit that made her look quite simply…well, edible.
“Hi,” Mallory said, as she approached, fancy attaché on her shoulder and right on time for their scheduled meeting. “Where would you like to talk?” She glanced behind her at the array of empty tables.
“Let’s move to my office,” Hope said, and set down her inventory clipboard. She led the way to the back of the bar, catching the faintest hint of Mallory’s perfume as she followed behind. Some sort of lavender and it was awesome.
“I didn’t even know there was an office back here,” Mallory mused as she sat down her attaché and took a seat in the chair across from Hope’s desk. “And I’ve been coming here for years.”
“Does that mean you think I’m more important now that you know I have a desk?” Hope said teasingly.
“I never thought you unimportant,” Mallory said smoothly and took out a notebook. “I’m going to take notes during our discussion, if that’s okay. I’m kind of old school,” she said, referencing the pen and paper.
“Not a problem. So how do we start?” As the conversation shifted to business, Hope somehow felt uneasy, out of her depth. This kind of thing was in Mallory’s wheelhouse, and for whatever reason she didn’t want to embarrass herself, say the wrong thing.
“Why don’t you tell me about some of your goals for Showplace.”
“Okay, I can do that.” Hope took a seat behind her desk. “Showplace is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do, bring in a steady crowd.”
“Right. The place seems to be doing really well lately.”
“And it is. We’re making money, which is the goal. But I have this vision.” Hope felt the blush touch her cheeks, and she stared at the wooden grooves of her desk.
Mallory dipped her head and found Hope’s eyes. “Tell me about it. I want to hear.”
Hope nodded, feeling like she was about to show her hand and confess something she was hopeful for, but not certain she could attain. The whole thing made her feel a little…exposed. She took a deep breath. “Mixology is a hot trend in the U.S. right now, and craft cocktails are on the cutting edge of that movement. The person behind the bar can no longer be just an autonomous drink mixer to stay ahead. They should understand that concocting the perfect drink is akin to a five-star chef preparing a meal. It takes ingenuity, precision, and know-how to hand the perfect cocktail to a waiting patron.”
She stood because now she was into it, her passion bubbling over. “There are so many interesting ways to go. Did you know that Greco-Romans used to flavor their wines with spices, herbs, and honey? Flavors can be just that simple, back to the basics without any over-inflated sweeteners.” And that’s when she noticed the most interesting of looks on Mallory’s face. “What? Why are you looking at me, all wide-eyed like that?”
Mallory shook her head in wonder. “I guess I’ve just never seen this side of you, all worked up and excited.”
“Well, this is something I can’t help but get excited about. It’s my work, and if done right, it can be art. People are out there looking for the next new thing, and I think I can give it to them. So while I love the fun, let-off-a-little-steam vibe the place has going now, I want to make it known for something else, and that’s innovative, handcrafted cocktails prepared by an experienced mixologist who knows their clientele and what will make them happy. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to get rid of our current clientele. I simply want to expand the makeup.”
It hadn’t eluded Hope that Mallory hadn’t taken a single note in the time she’d been talking, but she was smiling, and that was something. “I can market craft cocktails,” she said. “How specific can you get?”
“What do you mean?” Hope asked, intrigued.
Mallory stared at the ceiling, as if grappling for a concept. “If we did a monthly promotion, showcasing a specific ingredient or liquor. Ran a whole campaign for the month.”
“I could easily do that,” Hope said, even more excited now. “There are so many new gins out there right now. And I’d like the chance to introduce them. Gin is making a big comeback, the new vodka, if you will.”
Mallory smiled as she took down the note. “The new vodka. I like that.”
“People always think gin is depressing, but really, they’re missing out, as it has so many amazing flavors to appreciate.”
Mallory was struck. Something about listening to Hope talk about cocktail creation had her, quite simply, turned the hell on. There was this spark behind Hope’s eyes that pulled her in. Plus, the way she’d had to get up and move as she explained her ideas, because that’s how strongly she felt about her work, was beyond alluring.
“Do you think that will work?” Hope asked. Damn it, she’d stopped listening in favor of watching that lower lip and imagining what it would feel like to move her tongue across it. “A whole month on natural sweeteners, maybe starting with barrel-aged maple. What do you think?”
“It could work,” Mallory said, playing catch-up in her head. “We can sort those details out as we make a schedule. But I definitely think we can promote the hell out of Showplace and make it the go-to spot in the city for artisanal cocktails. In fact, I love the angle and think it’s very workable.”
Hope smiled the most genuine smile, and it stole Mallory’s breath in a way she wasn’t expecting. It was adorable, and since when had she ever thought of Hope as adorable? Sexy and charismatic, sure, but adorable was new.
“So what’s the next step?” Hope asked.
“Well, we put together a couple of different proposals, and based on your budget for promotion, you decide the best course of action, with our recommendations, of course.”
“Of course. That makes sense.” Hope came around the front of the desk, and Mallory swallowed at the new proximity, deciding that if they were going to work together, she needed to get in front of this thing between them so
oner rather than later.
She stood and addressed Hope as professionally as she could. “Maybe we should come up with some parameters. For working together, I mean.”
Hope shook her head, understanding the implication. “No. No parameters. Put that in the contract if you have to.” Whether she wanted it to or not, that comment had Mallory’s stomach doing hard-core somersaults. Hope passed her a slow, hot look that sent those somersaults lower. “I happen to like things the way they are between us.”
“The way they are,” Mallory repeated, “is distracting. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“You’re distracted by me?” Hope asked, closing the distance even more.
Mallory closed her eyes and answered honestly, as the temperature in the room inched up. “You know I am.”
“I’m distracted by you too,” Hope whispered.
“No whispering,” Mallory said. “Whispering is so not fair right now.”
“I’m less interested in what’s fair,” Hope said. “And more interested in the way you work a business suit.” Hope gently tugged Mallory toward her by the open front of her jacket until they were face-to-face, less than an inch between them. As they stood there, breathing in the same air, the tension thick and sharp, Mallory’s eyes connected with Hope’s. She watched as the blue darkened, mirroring the desire she felt swirling within her. All she wanted was for Hope to kiss her, touch her, put an end to the yearning that had come over her since their last contact in her hallway. Yet Hope made no move. In fact, it was as if she were waiting on Mallory.
That’s when the last of Mallory’s resolve vanished and she crushed her mouth to Hope’s, eliciting a quiet sound from her that sent Mallory spiraling even further. Hope’s hands were on her then, one sinking into her hair and the other snaking up the back of her shirt and pressing against her bare skin in a move that had her body thrumming. Those lips, if it was possible, were even better than Mallory remembered. Adept, soft, and intoxicating. Hope’s tongue moved against hers and her body tightened in desperate need, pushing closer to Hope, loving the feel of Hope’s hand as it moved farther up the skin of her back.
“God,” Hope managed between kisses. “Where did you come from?”
“Four blocks west,” she answered, then felt the smile against her mouth that only led to more of the amazing kissing, making her want to do so much more. She slowed them down until it felt like she was falling and the only sturdy thing to hold on to was Hope. Hope pulled her mouth away but held Mallory right where she was, both of their breathing ragged.
“This has been a very productive meeting,” Hope said, her eyes smoky and dark. “We should have more of these.” Mallory had to agree. There should be more and soon. Because giving in felt so much better than fighting it. She should write that down somewhere, have it made into a sign, perhaps, or a kitchen magnet.
“Maybe we could meet tomorrow night,” Hope said. “Discuss details. Make big plans.” She traced Mallory’s lapel. “Businessy ones.”
Mallory leaned in for another toe-curling kiss because, at this rate, why the hell not? “I agree. We should have another meeting. Tomorrow night. My place? Can you get off work?” Mallory had no clue what she was doing, but she’d worry about that later.
Hope smiled a devastating smile. “I’m the boss, remember?”
Chapter Eight
Mallory started her Tuesday with a Grande Almond Latte that just two years ago would have been a difficult feat to successfully obtain. But she and Starbucks had put their differences aside, and the folks there loved her. They’d really experienced a turn-around in their relationship, and she, for one, valued the newfound coffee friendship. She followed that victory up with a call to Timmy at Big Top, who seemed beyond thrilled to hear from her.
“Mallory, how are you?” he said as he picked up. “I’ve been meaning to call you. Thought we could all do drinks, talk about the film. Shoot the breeze.”
If shooting the breeze was boy talk for business, she was in. “That would be fabu—awesome,” she amended, in an attempt to speak Tim. “It would be fabu-awesome.” Oh no. She’d really just said that.
“You know a place?” he asked. “You strike me as a woman who knows the good spots.” That’s when a fantastic idea struck, as apparently Brooklyn wasn’t the only one capable of creative genius.
“I do know a spot. They serve the most amazing craft cocktails. I’d love for you to experience the place too, as you may want to utilize their services in the future.”
“I love the way you think,” Timmy said. “Let’s do it.” They squared away the details, and Mallory did a happy dance in her head for connecting the two clients. If Timmy, an influential man about town with the millennials, fell in love with Showplace, he could do a lot to put it on the map. If Showplace, likewise, impressed Timmy, Mallory would be an instant hero and receive cool points with Big Top, edging her that much closer to cinching the account.
It was a win-win.
She hung up the phone, sat back in her chair, and held her arms outstretched like the corporate rock star she was. She could hear the proverbial crowd cheering all around her.
“So I take it that call went well?” Hunter said, glancing up from her laptop.
“We’re having drinks with the Big Top guys at Showplace later this week. All of us. Show up and be cool.” Hunter passed her a look. “Okay, fair enough. You just show up. The rest of us will work at it.”
The door slid open and Brooklyn arrived for work, prompting Mallory, Hunter, and Sam to pause their tasks at hand and break into their new tradition of humming “Here Comes the Bride” every time Brooklyn arrived on the scene.
As always, she beamed back at them from the doorway, soaking it all in. “That never gets old.”
“You know what else doesn’t get old?” Mallory asked. “Wedding planning. I think I missed my calling.”
“You totally did,” Samantha said, nodding. “You’d be a kick-ass wedding planner, Mal, and if I ever get married, I plan to utilize your services.” With that she and Hunter exchanged a sweet smile that on any other day would have had Mallory feeling intrusive for witnessing. Not today. Today was a good day, and her friends could be as in love as they wanted. She’d already knocked off half the tasks on her to-do list and had been wildly successful in the process. She now got to spend a little of her morning pulling together the details of what would be a gorgeous wedding, if she had anything to do with it. And maybe, just maybe, she was happily looking forward to the after-hours business meeting she’d scheduled for herself.
Mallory’s thoughts lingered on that last part, as the anticipation of more alone time with Hope washed over her. She was behaving recklessly. She knew that much, but maybe it was time for her to let her hair down a little. Take a walk on the fun side of the street for a change. She’d put in years of being the together, responsible one in any given circumstance, and for once, she was planning to do something just because she wanted to.
“So I was thinking I might go dress shopping later this week,” Brooklyn said. “And I thought I’d see if any of you wanted to come. I mean, you don’t have to, by any means.”
Samantha raised her hand. “Um, have you met me? There’s a dress out there that says Brooklyn, and it’s my mission in life to find it.”
“I have met you,” Brooklyn said, smiling. “Which is why I’d hoped you’d want to come.”
“I’m in too,” Hunter said as she strolled to the kitchen for more coffee. “I can’t have you picking the wrong dress. Would be lame.”
“Of course we’re coming,” Mallory said. “This is important.”
Brooklyn nodded a happy smile, full from the sentiment. “You guys are the best.”
“Objectively,” Mallory said. “Now before you get wrapped up in Savvy-land, I have two photographers I want you to take a look at. They both seem right up your alley, style-wise. Once you make the call, I’ll book one. Are you sure Jessica doesn’t want to weigh in?”
“She wants to
weigh in on any and all music. Apparently, ‘Funkytown’ is not to be played.”
Mallory laughed. “I’ll make her my official music consultant then. And we should probably start talking colors tomorrow. So maybe have a discussion tonight.”
“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Brooklyn asked.
“It really is,” Samantha said, matching her smile. “I keep getting little goose bumps just thinking about it. Have you told your family?” Brooklyn had been in contact with her birth parents for only the past year, and including them in such a major life event would be a big step.
Brooklyn nodded. “I told them last night. Aaron…” She held up one finger. “Sorry. My dad is going to walk me down the aisle.” Her eyes filled with tears then. “Now that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”
Mallory’s heart clenched at the sentiment. “But how awesome that you can now.”
Brooklyn wiped the tears from her cheeks and laughed in spite of them. “I’ve been very lucky this past year. It’s true.”
“Who’s lucky?” Ashton, their teenaged intern, asked from the doorway.
“That would be you,” Samantha said brightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Because I have a huge stack of things to be filed, and I know how much you adore filing.”
“It’s my favorite in all of life,” Ashton said extra cheerfully and pulled the remaining headphone from her ear. “It’s right up there with Justin Bieber and watching haircuts. But I do happen to rock at it. Filing wizard should be my new title.” When they’d taken on Jessica’s sixteen-year-old neighbor as an intern, Mallory wasn’t sure how the new presence would affect their vibe. But Ashton had turned out to be just as smart and witty as Brooklyn had promised and made an excellent contribution to the Savvy team. She came from money, much like Mallory herself, and didn’t have to work. She chose to, and that earned her major points with Mallory. This kid would go far.
“Hey, don’t you have a volleyball game tonight?” Sam asked.
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