Noticing the growl in my stomach and the way her eyes had started to glaze over, I smirked. “You know, it’s a well-known fact that plotting grand openings works better on a full stomach. How do you feel about gate-crashing a slightly intimidating, always unpredictable, family dinner?”
Isabella caught the playful glint in my eyes. “Is Max Kingsley actually inviting me to meet the fam? I mean, I don’t usually do dinners until the fifth . . . work meeting.”
I chuckled. “It’s . . . uncharted territory for me too. But, given how the day is going, I thought, why not? Besides, it could be fun, watching my three sisters trying to decipher the enigma that is Isabella.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She flirted back. “All right, I’m in. But two conditions: one, there has to be copious amounts of wine, and two, you have to show me at least one picture of baby Max.”
I grinned, the tension melting away. “Deal. And thank you. Truly. Having you there might just make the evening bearable.”
“I hope that’s not all I bring to the table,” she replied with a wink, her voice a mix of jest and sincerity.
“You know it’s not, sweetheart,” I said, eyebrows raised.
“We have an hour or so before we need to leave. So, before we brave the familial battleground,” I began with a smirk, shifting my gaze back to Isabella, “how about a quick taste test? I’ve been working on a signature cocktail for the grand opening.”
“Oh, now you have my attention. Show me whatcha got,” she said as she stood and headed over to the bar, sliding into one of the new chairs that had recently arrived.
I selected a few ingredients, a shaker, and two champagne glasses. “Okay, I’m thinking this could be called Midnight Carousel. It’s a blend of elderflower, crème de violette, lemon, and Champagne. We could always sub out the Champagne for sparkling soda.”
“Okay, that sounds amazing,” she said.
I felt her eyes on me as I added the ingredients to the shaker, popped the lid on it, and shook it vicariously.
“Oh, Max, it’s beautiful,” Isabella said as I poured the concoction into our glasses, the purple liquid swirling with a smidge of activated charcoal I added to give it a deeper purple color. I rubbed a few flakes of edible gold over the top and slid a glass over to her.
She gripped the stem. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass.
“Cheers, Isabella,” I responded.
I watched her reaction as she parted her lips and tasted the drink. Her eyes widened. I was hoping for a good reaction, and the way her eyes widened told me I’d hit the mark.
“Oh my god, Max, this is so good,” she said, taking another sip.
“You think it’ll work for the signature drink?” I asked. “I have this one planned and some other mocktails, too.”
“Absolutely,” she said, “This is amazing.”
Isabella’s eyes landed on the stack of flashcards. “I’m sorry if my drink requests distracted you from studying. I know your test is coming up.”
I shook my head. “It’s no problem, really. It gave me something other than tannins and wine notes to think about.”
“Okay, I feel like I’ve taken up a lot of your time lately. With the event and . . .” Her cheeks flushed, no doubt remembering about what we’d done on the stage last time we were here. “I shouldn’t be distracting you when you need to focus.”
I set down my glass and rested my palms on the bar top. “You are not a distraction, Isabella. Not in the least.”
She sucked in her bottom lip. “Okay. I just don’t want anything to compromise your focus for your exam. This is a big deal.”
“Trust me, you help my brain calm itself. In the same way that I think it helps you,” I said.
She tilted her head. “You mean, you stress out about being a thirty-five-year-old single woman with no clear path for the future, too?”
“I know there’s a lot of overthinking that goes on in here.” I came around from the back of the bar and walked over to where she sat. “And, right now, it sounds like you’re in your head. And as beautiful of a place that would be to hang out, I don’t want you overthinking about our time together.”
“It also seems to me,” I continued, “that you’ve achieved quite a bit since you got back not that long ago. Do you give yourself credit for your achievements or do you just focus on the things you haven’t perfected?”
“Fair point,” she said.
“Is this your way of asking me to help you refocus?” I asked as I slid my palm over her thigh.
