her, and her smile was a little harder to hold. Was she so forgettable?
“You noticed me,” he said.
“What?” She blinked as she reframed the situation in her head. She hadn’t seen him in forever and she looked nothing like her former self. Still, she was halfway to offended that her brother’s friend didn’t know who she was...but she was also intrigued. What was the intrigue about?
Second chances, part of her whispered.
Reid knew Drew as Gage’s little sis who was a fashion disaster, rarely spoke and was curled on the couch with a book whenever he had seen her. And though the summer she’d been rocking a black bikini at their family’s backyard pool had been more about rebellion than catching Reid’s attention, she remembered him noticing. In passing. He certainly hadn’t looked at her the way he was looking at her now.
Like he wanted her.
What was that saying? That there wasn’t a second chance to make a first impression. She’d bet there wasn’t a single soul alive who didn’t want to press a do-over button on something stupid they’d said or done in the past, to leave a totally different first impression. Evidently, she had the rare opportunity to do just that.
Reid and Drew both lived in Seattle—as did her brother—but she’d done her level best to keep from bumping into Reid on accident. Sure she’d undergone a transformation, but she wasn’t willing to risk being overlooked again. He’d always seen Drew through the lens of “Gage’s sister,” and she doubted dropping weight and changing her hair color would change that. Not that she had to try hard to avoid him. Her social media footprint was almost invisible. She’d endured enough bullying in high school to know better than put up a photo and expect likes and wait for compliments. Nooooo thanks.
If she was running into him here, of all places, the universe must be nudging her to take action where he was concerned. It was a sign.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
A laugh bubbled from her throat. A second chance to make a first impression on Reid. To find out how long it took him to realize that he was flirting and chatting with none other than Drew Fleming, Gage’s younger sister, and not the mysterious “Christina” from the conference.
This should be fun. And no less than he deserved for not recognizing her on sight.
“Only if it’s golden yellow and bubbly.”
He eyed her gold shirt. “Fitting.”
He offered his arm and she curled her fingers around his biceps. Whatever cool she had slipped from her like rainwater off a duck’s back. She’d easily navigated the room in her high-heeled shoes all evening, but now worried she might stumble and fall. She swiped her teeth with her tongue in case her lipstick had transferred. She suddenly worried there was something in her nose or—
“Champagne and scotch rocks, please,” Reid ordered from the bartender. Her palm was sweaty. So were her teeth, for that matter.
Do not freak out. Do not freak out!
She’d play a role. Like an actor. Deep inside she was the same Drew, but her outer appearance had changed enough that some days she felt like someone else. She was definitely a stronger version of herself. A happier version of herself. She’d sprouted and then bloomed, and now a tender new bud was around the corner. She could feel it.
Screw Chef Devin Briggs for never seeing the rose he’d had.
She shook her head. She wasn’t going to let thoughts of her ex-boyfriend ruin a one-on-one with Reid.
“Golden and bubbly.” Reid handed her the champagne flute. “Should we sit or linger?” He leaned in when he asked, and she was so focused on the shape of his upper lip, the tempting fullness of his lower lip, that she didn’t answer.
“Huh?” Smooth, Drew.
He gestured to a cluster of boxy-looking chairs and a sofa in the corner. Currently unoccupied.
“Sit. Let’s sit.” Before she had a case of the vapors and fell flat on her face.
He took her free hand this time, his blunt fingers and wide palm dwarfing her smaller ones. She walked toward the sofa with one thought dominating all others. I’m holding Reid’s hand. I’m holding Reid’s hand!
She felt like a teenager again, smitten by this gorgeous god of a man who seemed too perfect to be real. Except she was closer to his equal now, wasn’t she? The playing field hadn’t been leveled, but close. She was a professional with a great job and a great life, and her shoes were adding four inches of much-needed height. She was confident and strong, and she wouldn’t trade this second chance for anything. His being attracted to her was doing wonders for her ego.
Shallow, but no less true.
Dipping his chin, he gestured for her to sit. She did, crossing one leg over the other and noticing when Reid noticed. She hid her smile at the rim of the champagne flute. As bubbles tickled her throat and popped on her tongue, he settled in next to her.
“Where do you hail from, Christina—” another glance at her name tag “—Kolch?”
“And you pronounced it right. Impressive.” Christina was always complaining that she’d heard everything from “Cock” to “Couch” whenever someone said her last name.
“Like the soda but with an L, I figured.”
“You figured right.” A weighty pause hovered in the air and she realized her faux pas. She recovered with a stilted, “What’s your name?” and felt silly for asking.
“Singleton. Reid Singleton.”
“Did you intentionally introduce yourself like James Bond, or did I hear it that way because of your accent?” His smile erased her mind like a powerful magnet, but thankfully she recovered quickly. “I assume you didn’t grow up in California?”
“I’m from London, but I live in Seattle and have for years. Never developed a knack for you Americans’ hard Rs.”
He overpronounced the R in hard and Rs, which made him sound a little like a pirate. Drew laughed again.
“Do you always giggle this much or only when you drink champagne?”
“Only when I drink champagne with handsome strangers,” she said, enjoying the game and the new rules for it. When Reid figured out who she was in the next two minutes, she would shove his arm in an ole-buddy-ole-pal way and chastise him for his weak powers of observation.
But she was in no hurry. She liked him this way—trying to win her attention, sitting taller when she’d paid him a compliment he had to know was true. It wasn’t like Reid didn’t own a mirror. He was obviously good-looking to the nth degree.
It was unfair to every other man on the planet.
“Well played.” His voice was a low murmur as he leaned in, his eyes touching her lips. He then sat back, taking her breath with him, and sipped his scotch while she drained half her champagne.
She suddenly
