Page 2 of Expecting an Argument
Being away from the office for so long was making my nerves twitch. I needed a distraction before I started mentally calculating how much money I was losing by partying instead of working.
As I waited for the bartender to return, the tips of my acrylic nails traced the small tiles on the bartop—made from the remains of a century-old floor mosaic that was once at the store’s entrance. Ashley and Tyson had recovered most of the original department store while completely modernizing the antiquated building. Instead of changing rooms, they added bathrooms. Instead of clothing racks, they had purchased circular tables. The bar used to be a soda fountain, so instead of a soda jerk in front of me…
…there was just a regular jerk beside me.
I held back a scowl as a familiar face sat on the bar stool directly to my right. Even after ten years, I couldn’t forget that oh-so-perfectly combed head of blonde hair. His cheekbones cut deeper across his face and his eyes had hints of crow’s feet like most of us, but otherwise Beau Fontaine looked exactly the same.
Back in high school, Caitlin Cole and the other rich assholes followed him around like designer-bred puppies because he was too much of a snob to associate with anyone else. Beau groaned any time we got paired for a group project, threw hard candy at my head from the homecoming float, and even tried to run me over in the school parking lot once.
And he couldn’t have picked anywhere else to sit?
“Adams,” he said in greeting, not bothering to even glance in my direction.
I cringed at the sound of his voice. He was still too good to say my first name, huh? Was Olivia really that hard? Even Liv would have been easier.
“Well, look who strolled out of his manor to pay the peasants a visit,” I said with a laugh that anyone else would interpret as friendly.
Thatmade him slide those blue eyes my way. In true Fontaine fashion, he wore a midnight blue suit rather than the typical sportcoat-and-jeans combo that most of our classmates showed up in. He didn’t have on the white lapel rose that all the other former members of the football team wore, either.
He was probably too afraid to sully his thousand-dollar suit with a grocery store flower.
“Drinks?” asked the baby-faced bartender.
“Old fashioned,” Beau ordered.
I took a quick glance at the chalkboard drink menu and gave the bartender a smile. “I’ll have the ‘Top of the Class,’ please.”
The bartender turned to make my drink and Beau scoffed. “Rub it in, why don’t you?”
This time, I turned to face him. The moment he mooed at me as I crossed the graduation stage still haunted me in the brightly-lit hell of dressing room mirrors—so, yes, I was going to rub it in.
“Don’t be such a sore loser,” I teased. “Some men are happy coming second.”
His eyes locked with mine. A heartbeat passed and the corner of his mouth flicked up as we both caught my unintended innuendo. Just as my cheeks started to grow hot, the bartender set my drink down in front of me.
“One ‘Top of the Class’ for the lovely lady,” the bartendersaid. He placed Beau’s drink on the bartop. “And an Old Fashioned for Mr. Fontaine.”
I popped my straw into my mouth to stifle a laugh. Beau’s cut crystal glass contained whiskey with a bright, waxy cherry and an orange slice perched on top of a pyramid of cubed ice.
Beau stared at the drink like he had just been served a dead mouse in a cup. He was probably going to throw a fit and have the poor kid tossed out of the reunion.
“Oh, don’t you be mean to him!” I whispered to Beau as soon as the bartender walked off to serve another guest. “He can’t be older than twenty-two. Hell, I think I might have babysat him at some point!”
He cut me a look. “You really do think the worst of me—assuming I would be cruel to the help.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my own drink, a fizzy cocktail that was the same bright coral color that my graduation dress had been. The bubbles tickled my tongue as I drank, but Beau looked at his own drink like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“So, what brings you to my barstool?” I asked. “I would think you would be sitting with Bethany Whitecloud. Didn’t you take her to prom?”
Beau picked up the orange slice and then gave me a half smile. “You mean, didn’t I takehimto prom?”
Heat crept across my cheeks as Beau sank his teeth into the orange.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said as my eyes dropped to the mosaic bartop. “I guess I hadn’t kept up with our class as well as I thought.”
Beau pulled the orange from his lips, having stripped all the flesh from the rind in one mouthful. “Well, isn’t that the point of tonight?” He turned his head and met my eyes. “To finally catch up?”
The glow from the fairy lights scattered across his blue eyeslike a sunset sparkles across a pool. Damn, I had forgotten how pretty his eyes were.
