Pretend It's Love(16)

"I thought we were supposed to be making cocktails for Gracie and Des." She took the shot glass and smirked at him.

"Salute!" He raised his shot glass.

"What does that mean?"

"To good health."

She nodded and clinked her glass against his. "Salute."

They downed the vodka and Paul had to admit, as much as it tasted like  something that could have been squeezed out of a unicorn, it was tasty.  An idea took shape in his mind.

"Okay, so we're going to make a Bellini." He grabbed a bottle of  Prosecco from the wine fridge. "Grab four of the champagne flutes."

Libby complied and lined them up in a neat row in front of him. "Bellinis don't have vodka, do they?"

"Not usually." He eased the cork out of the bottle with a pop. "But I  used to make Absolut Bellinis when I was living in London."

"You lived in London? I didn't know that." She watched him with curious eyes, her arms propped up on the bar's surface.

"Spent a year there in between some backpacking stretches. I wanted to  see the world. That's how I started working behind a bar-it was the  perfect job for me to party and get paid at the same time." He winked.

She shook her head, smiling as he measured out the vodka into each glass  and then followed it with pureed cherries. As the Prosecco was added,  the red puree swirled, coloring the wine and mixing in the vodka until  the glass graduated from clear to hot pink.

"That looks amazing."

He placed a cherry in each glass. "Voilà."

"There's a story behind this, isn't there?" She breathed in the scent of  the drink. "The cherry goes so well with the rose and marshmallow, why  didn't I think of that?"

The way she looked up at Paul could have knocked him dead on the spot.  The admiration shining out of that beautiful face made him want to sweep  the drinks to the floor and take her right there on the spot.

"You'll have to ask Gracie about that story," he said, brushing his  hands down the front of his jeans. "Want another sneaky shot before  dinner?"

"I'll be under the table before the food comes out." She held up her  hands and laughed. "Multiple shots on an empty stomach is a bad idea."

"I'm open to bad ideas," he said, stalking around the side of the bar and placing his hands on her shoulders.

She swallowed, her eyes darkening instantly. "That's why I need to be careful around you."

Paul opened his mouth to protest but Gracie's shrill giggle came from  outside the house. Bad ideas would have to wait-tonight they were on a  mission.





Chapter Eight

"These are seriously delicious," Gracie said, knocking back the  remainder of her third cherry vodka Bellini. "And they smell amazing.  What flavor is the vodka again?"         

     



 

"This one is marshmallow and rose." Libby jumped up from the table and brought the bottle over. "It's my personal favorite."

Gracie unscrewed the cap and took in a big breath. "I love it, and I  adore this cocktail. I would never have thought to put the cherry in the  Bellini."

"I'm curious, what's the story behind it?" Libby asked, taking a long sip of her cocktail.

At the current rate, Gracie was drinking her under the table. Libby was  halfway through her second drink, and Gracie was motioning for Paul to  make her number four.

"Didn't Paul tell you?"

Libby shook her head and watched as Paul mixed another drink. His  shirtsleeves had been rolled up, revealing strong forearms covered in a  smattering of dark hair. His eyes caught hers, crinkling as he stifled a  smile.

Busted.

"Oh, it's such a funny story." Gracie grabbed Des's hand and gave it a  squeeze. "I used to bring all these loser guys to First because I had it  stuck in my head that I needed to marry some corporate bigwig. But they  were always terrible! When I ordered a Bellini with a cherry on the  side that was Des's signal to come and save me."

"It took her a while to figure out I was the better choice," Des said  with exaggerated smugness, though his love for Gracie filled the room  like a heady perfume.

Libby's heart squeezed. She had no idea how it felt to be looked at as  though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. But she'd bet  her last dollar it would make everything else pale in comparison.

"But I got there in the end, didn't I?" Gracie beamed, her eyes bright, cheeks pink with love and alcohol.

"You sure did."

"That's such a lovely story." Libby didn't try to hide the awe and envy  in her voice. If Paul questioned her she'd claim to be an amazing  actress. Again.

"So you came up with all these vodka recipes yourself?" Des asked.

The boys had moved on from the cocktails to straight shots after dinner  had been cleared away. Now they all sat around the table, feasting on a  bowl of chocolates that Libby brought with her and sampling the vodka  flavors.

"I started out following recipes I found online." Libby selected a  chocolate with a bright green foil wrapper. "But then I experimented  with my own. These six flavors are the core ones I decided to launch up  front, but I'm currently perfecting another four flavors and I'm in  early stages of testing a few others."

"I like the orange and basil," Des said, lifting the bottle to his nose. "It's not sweet at all."

"It works really well as a mixer with plain soda water or tonic water. I  felt like I needed something a little more masculine given how sweet  some of the other flavors are."

Des nodded. "I'll be honest, when you first came to me I thought the  whole thing was a bit gimmicky. But I misjudged the product-it's really  good."

Hope curled in Libby's gut; she had the feeling Des wasn't one to hand  out praise too easily. This was definitely a positive step forward, all  she had to do now was convince him that his customers would select her  bottles from the shelf.

"Having a few flavored vodkas would really open up the opportunity for a  specialized cocktail menu," Paul interjected, opening the last bottle  and pouring four shots. "And mixology classes."

Des raised a brow. "Mixology classes?"

"Libby and I came up with this brilliant idea-"

"I'm not taking credit," she said, holding up her hands. "That was all you."

"We-I-want to start up my own mixology school. I thought we could run  classes on how to create professional cocktails at home or for parties,  teach people the theory behind mixing the perfect drink. It would be a  perfect branding partnership for Libby Gal Cocktails as well." His face  was neutral but she sensed a nervous energy in the way he bounced his  leg next to hers under the table. "I could run it during the week. It  will bring more people into the bar on our quiet nights, make some extra  revenue if we couple the classes with a dinner here."

"Do you have a business plan?" Des asked.

"Uh … no."

"A concept without a business plan is just an idea. I'd need to see  numbers, stats, and how you think we'll fund this activity before I can  even consider it."

Paul looked as though he'd run full speed into a brick wall. Sure, she  hadn't expected Des to fawn over his idea, but some semblance of  positive feedback would have been nice. Some brotherly support perhaps?         

     



 

Knowing Des a little better, she had the feeling it wasn't personal. He  took his business very seriously, and Paul was his younger brother.  Maybe this had something to do with why Paul felt it necessary to have a  fake girlfriend?

"Sure, I'll put something together," Paul said.

"I'm not going to be able to make it to the car if we keep drinking at  this rate," Gracie said, in an obvious attempt to move the conversation  along. However, she didn't hesitate to accept another shot when Paul  handed it to her. "Is this lavender?"

"Yeah, I source it from a huge farm in Daylesford. They have a whole  food and drink menu based around it, and that's where I got the idea to  make a lavender infusion." She turned to Des. "You might like this one,  too. I didn't add anything sweet to it, so it's more herbal than  floral."

"Lavender?" He looked sceptical. "I guess we'll soon find out."

"Salute!" Paul lifted his glass, and everyone else followed.

Glasses slammed down against the table in a disjointed beat. Libby's  head swam with fuzzy warmth. She'd have to ease off if she had any  chance of being able to drive home … ever. Frowning, she stole a glance at  the clock. The hour hand hovered just before the ten. She'd definitely  be getting a cab at this rate.

"You know," Gracie said, toying with her now empty shot glass. "The  Bellinis would be a great thing to serve at the wedding. We could make  them the toasting drink for the speeches."

"Wouldn't your mother have a heart attack if we deviated from the very  carefully selected menu she presented us with?" Des asked, a cheeky  glint in his eye.