‘So what’s the plan?’ Titus asked.
‘I have something special in store for you,’ Wyatt said, gesturing at a door at the rear of the bar. ‘Follow me and you’ll find out.’
He led the way, and Edith hung back so she was the last member of their party. When she went through the door, she shivered as a chill passed through her. Of all the things she’d imagined doing this evening, being around Wyatt was not one of them. She’d envisioned champagne, tapas, and lots of laughter.
‘OK then.’ Wyatt gestured at the two long tables in front of them. ‘This evening you will make cocktails in a masterclass led by an expert mixologist.’
‘Oh wow!’ Titus laughed. ‘I’ve always fancied trying this.’
‘I know you have, and that’s why I planned it.’ Wyatt clapped Titus on the back.
‘Me too! I mean I’ve made some at the café with Pearl and Ellie on special occasions but never done it in a proper class. I’ll be able to pick up some tips!’ Thora wandered over to one table and picked up a small steel measuring cup. ‘Do we get to drink them?’
‘Of course!’ Wyatt grinned. ‘That’s all part of the fun.’
The mixologist soon joined them. She explained the process and demonstrated how to make a few cocktails with moves that would have made Tom Cruise proud inCocktail.
The mixologist told them all to take a place at one of the tables, and somehow, Edith ended up next to Wyatt. She glancedsideways at him, but he was examining the bottles and tools on the table, and seemed oblivious to her discomfort. She gave herself an inward shake and pushed her shoulders back, took a breath and prepared to focus on the task at hand.
As she listened and copied the expert, Edith relaxed a bit. She measured out the ingredients and added them to the shaker and then screwed on the lid. Then, they were told how to shake the mix to get the right result.
In for a penny, in for a pound,she thought, loosening her hips and shaking the cocktail. Her tension dispersed as she moved. There was no point going for half measures (she chuckled softly at her own pun) when making something like this. Besides, what did she have to lose from relaxing?
When the mixologist told them to stop and then strain out the drink, she picked up the cocktail glass and peered at her creation. With Jamaican rum, lime juice, green Chartreuse and falernum, she had made a Nuclear Daiquiri.
‘Now the fun part,’ the mixologist said. ‘You get to taste it.’
‘Hooray!’ Finn said as he picked up his cocktail. ‘Cheers, my dears.’
Edith raised her glass and took a sip. The sharp citrus of the lime juice and herbal spicy notes of the green Chartreuse and falernum were balanced by the richness of the rum.
‘Mmm …’ The sound emerged from her lips without effort, and she blushed a little as Wyatt looked at her over the rim of his own glass. His eyes held hers and her stomach flipped over. His gaze was so intense, the honey of his eyes more maple syrup in the low lighting of the bar, and a tingle started up low in her belly.
It’s the alcohol, she told herself as she tore her gaze away from her ex and took another sip of the drink.
Right now, the alcohol was helping and so she drank her daiquiri, hoping her reaction to Wyatt’s proximity would not be a nuclear one. He had devastated her once and caused a dramatic reaction in her and she could not let him do that again. The fallout had simply been too bad.
‘OK then, our next cocktail is…’
They went through the process again and made another drink, just as delicious as the first one, and the gentle buzz of the alcohol soothed Edith. The clink of ice and the tang of citrus filled the air. Her shoulders lowered, her cheeks flushed and she found herself smiling as she worked.
‘Shake it ‘til you make it!’ Finn said as they set about making the third drink.
‘A cocktail a day keeps the bad vibes away,’ Titus said.
‘Sip happens!’ Wyatt joined in.
Edith froze and glared at him. How could he even joke about something like that after what he’d done?
He seemed to sense her eyes on him, and he looked at her; then the smile dropped off his face. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
She shook her head and measured out a shot of vodka, but he moved closer to her.
‘Edith? What did I say?’
‘How can you be so blasé about things?’ she asked.
‘Blasé?’ His brows met. ‘How am I blasé?’
