The Bluff (Graham Brothers, #2)(49)

Cal_45

I said what I said



BagelBytes Has Winnie stopped moderating Neighborly? I’ve reported this post several times for a NUMBER of reasons but no response.



SlimShabby THIS IS A SERIOUS MEDICAL QUESTION. PLEASE TELL ME IF IT'S EBOLA. HERE’S ANOTHER PICTURE FROM A DIFFERENT ANGLE.



FanGirl12

I can’t even tell what body part I’m looking at.



Vanz

You don’t want to know what body part that is

FanGirl12

EWWWWWWWW!



Neighborly Mod The comments on this thread have been closed and photos removed due to inappropriate content. Please remember to be kind and above all, Neighborly!





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





Winnie



I’ve settled on a perfect nickname for James: Houdini.

It’s wild how a man easily a head taller and a whole lot broader than most everyone at this conference can manage to disappear. And I know he’s here somewhere. Every so often I do catch a glimpse of his dark head, usually ducking away like he knows I’ve spotted him and he’s trying to remain hidden.

Whatever, man. Give me whiplash with your back-and-forth. I care not.

I check my phone again for the time. And maybe to see if James has texted me. His bags are still by the door, but so far as I can tell, he hasn’t been back up to the room. I’m not sure when he’s going to Tank’s house or if he’s having dinner first.

More importantly, I don’t know if he meant it about going to the party with me. Based on what I know about his aversion to people, my guess is he has no plans of going.

And I’m not waiting for him.

When it’s almost seven and the party has already started on the roof, I decide I don’t care about James. James, who? I’m definitely not dressing for him in my tight black pants, sky-high heels, and favorite pink blouse. I put my hair in a signature high ponytail, curl the ends, and ride the elevator up to the roof. Alone.

Without mini clowns or legging ladies to distract me, my nerves build. I should have gotten Kyoko’s number earlier. I lost track of her after the afternoon sessions and hope she’ll be up there.

When the elevator doors slide open, I step off and spot Kyoko almost immediately. She waves like a maniac, her smile easing the tension in my chest.

“Winnie!” Kyoko grabs my arm and hauls me toward one of several bars set up around the patio. “Thank the stars you’re here. It’s a total bro fest. I was about to leave.”

I snort and let her pull me over to one of the bars. “I almost went right back down to my room, so good thing you were standing there.”

“What do you want to drink?”

What I WANT is something like a Tom Collins or vodka tonic, but because this is a craft beer conference, my choices are beer. Or other beer.

“Order for me? I don’t know what I like, except less hoppy, please. Maybe a stout?”

Kyoko steps up to the bar. While she’s ordering, I glance around. The rooftop has a heated pool in the center, the steam rising lightly off the surface. There are topiaries and larger potted plants giving it a garden party feel. Space heaters placed sporadically keep it from being too chilly, even with the light breeze. Some kind of indie rock plays through speakers I don’t see, and the mood is raucous. If possible, there are even fewer women here than there were at the conference today.

I feel eyes on me and understand why Kyoko was about to leave before I got here. I won’t last long, even with her. I’d rather risk a horde of legging ladies and go down to the lobby bar.

Of course, in my quick scan, I don’t see James, not that I was looking. (I was totally looking.) He’d probably rather hang with the child clowns than attend a party. My guess is that he left his bags in the room in order to avoid me and just went back to Tank’s house as planned.

“Here you go. I got you a coffee stout.” Kyoko hands me a plastic cup with a wry grin. “Clearly, they spared no expense on the glasses. But I won’t complain about an open bar.”

I stuff a ten in the tip jar because very few other people seem to be tipping. My wallet cries out in protest, but I make it a silent promise that we’ll get back on our feet soon.

We manage to snag a cabana area being vacated by a group of men who could be lumberjacks, claiming two cushioned lounge chairs. We kick off our shoes, laughing. Kyoko taps her glass to mine and we drink, the beer cool and rich on my tongue. Okay, I could get used to this. Before we start talking, I make sure to get her phone number. I’m sticking to her like superglue’s stickier cousin for the rest of the conference.

“So, you want to give me a crash course in craft beer?” I ask, taking another sip. Yep—I’m a fan of coffee stout. “This is perfect, by the way.”

She grins. “I saw how many cups of coffee you went through in the afternoon sessions. And you seem to have a thing for rich and dark.” She winks, and I groan.

“Are you making a reference to my boss? Who is, might I remind you, my boss.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where is he, by the way? I’m shocked he’s not here since you are.”

“I think you’re confused. James is not here because this is where I am. The man has found a way to be everywhere I’m not all day.”