Junk Mail(15)

“Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing you wearing a big red bow under my tree.”

My mouth falls open, and Josh’s lips hint at a smile. There are dozens of company partners within earshot. Is he seriously flirting with me right now? My cheeks burn, probably turning the same color as my wine.

“This must be the famous Gram I’ve heard so much about.” Josh gestures toward my grandmother, who turns around in mid-swig of wine upon hearing her name.

One look at Josh, and her eyes widen to the size of golf balls. I’m pretty sure the bartender has been immediately forgotten.

“Sure am.” She laughs, extending the hand that isn’t gripping her wineglass. “And you are?”

“Josh Hanson. I’m in charge of the collaboration between Wine O’Clock and Wish Upon a Gift. It’s a pleasure to meet you . . .”

I clear my throat as Gram hangs on to the handshake for a moment too long. Great. Even my grandmother is smitten.

“Gram is fine,” she says.

When she finally releases his hand, I try not to feel a little jealous that my grandmother has touched Josh more than I have. Then I silently correct myself. He’s not mine to touch—he’s just a guy I’m working with. That’s it. Keep your damn panties on, Peyton.

Gram narrows her eyes at Josh. “How old are you?”

He smiles wryly, clearly amused by her. “I’m thirty-four.”

“And you’re single?” she fires out next.

Holy hell, what is with this interrogation?

“Very,” he says as he briefly meets my eyes, and the tingles in my belly spread south.

Gram’s lips press into a line as she considers this information. “Thirty-four, huh. You’re no spring chicken. Why don’t you have a wife? Are you batting for the other team or something?”

My eyes widen in horror but Josh only laughs, the rich, deep sound throbbing through me and leaving something warm in its wake.

“That’s a very good question. I guess the reason I’m single is because I prioritized building my company over pursuing a relationship, but I hope to rectify that in the future. And to answer your last question, I most assuredly love the company of a beautiful woman.” He shoots a quick glance my way, and I inhale sharply.

Gram nods once, seemingly pleased by his answer. “Good. So you’re not one of those hit-it-and-quit-it player types, are you? You’re looking for something real?”

Josh nods. “I’m not a player. And absolutely, someday I would love to settle down.”

As my stomach twists itself into a gigantic knot, I feel Josh’s gaze rake over me. Please don’t hold my crazy grandma against me, I think, fake-smiling at him through my horror. I had no idea she was going to unleash the Spanish Inquisition on him.

As I search for conversation topics that don’t start with Gram, this is the proud owner of the ham hock you caught a glimpse of, the band transitions into their next song. Gram wiggles in delight. Clearly, she knows this one.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Josh, but I just can’t miss this song. You’ll have to excuse me.”

I take a deep breath and watch her sashay toward the parquet dance floor at the center of the ballroom. I’m not sure if Gram dancing will embarrass me more or less than the game of twenty questions we just played, but something tells me I’m about to find out.

Pausing in her mission only long enough to grab some random older gentleman in a navy suit to dance with her, Gram shimmies off toward the dance floor, disappearing out of sight into the crowd. I hope to someday have half the confidence with men that my grandmother has.

“Your grandma is wild. That’s the CEO of one of our biggest whiskey distributors.” Josh laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

That laugh. Low and deep . . . it does something to me. Clearly, I’m a little overdue for some male interaction if a laugh is what’s lighting my fire.

“Never a dull moment with her,” I say, distracting my lips with my wineglass so I don’t do anything stupid, like try to take a nibble from his Adam’s apple that’s peeking out above his knotted black tie. “I’m really sorry about her asking you all of those personal questions. I’m not sure what got into her. Actually, scratch that, I know exactly what’s gotten into her. She has this idea that I need to be set up and find a good man. Before you arrived, she was trying to make a love connection between me and the bartender.”

Josh’s eyes settle on my mouth for just a moment, before they lift to mine once again. “I highly doubt you have any trouble finding a male companion, Peyton.”

Then his gaze cuts over to the bartender, and he smiles. “But I don’t think the bartender is quite your type—or that you’re his.”

I grin and take another sip of my wine, enjoying the pleasant warmth as it settles in my stomach.

We’re quiet for a moment as we sip our drinks, our focus straying toward the dance floor. Gram is clearly having an amazing time with the man in the navy suit. He actually knows how to dance, and they’re making it look fun.

“She’s one of the most incredible women I’ve ever met,” I say, watching her in awe.

Josh takes a step toward me, close enough that the toes of our shoes almost touch. “You must take after her, then.”

I open my mouth, looking for a quick or witty response, but I’m at a loss for words. He’s not making this keeping it professional thing easy. I manage to squeak out a “thank you” as my gaze shifts to my feet. Our feet. The toes of our shoes look like they’re kissing, and I’m not-so-secretly jealous of them.