He was on the patio with Logan, who had been sent ahead to secure them a table. They were at one of the high tops, and one of the contractors was sitting with them. A pitcher of water and one of margueritas sat on the table with four glasses. There were also two full shot glasses, two empty ones, and each man held a beer.
“Hi, Cameron,” Sophie greeted the contractor.
“You clean up well, Soph,” Cameron said, nodding at her dress. “You always look great, Emma.”
“Thank you.” Emma took the chair Reid held for her.
“Yeah, thanks,” Sophie said dryly. “Charmer.”
“I just got myself kicked off the cool table, didn’t I? I have to go read the riot act to a couple of my guys anyway. I can see they’re going hard tonight. You want to dance later, you come find me.” He pointed at Sophie as he vacated his chair for her.
Logan slid his gaze down Sophie’s summer dress as she swiveled into place. She had purchased this for Glenda’s wedding four years ago and had worn it maybe twice since. As dresses went, it was comfortable with its A line and stretchy fabric, and flattering with its simple white flowers on wine red, but it felt fussy when Logan sat so close and took notice of it.
“Good call on the water,” Sophie said, helping herself to the pitcher.
“Those are yours,” Reid said, pointing at the shots. “Be more careful.”
“I will,” Emma promised. She tapped hers to Sophie’s and they threw them back.
With perfect timing, the crowd started singing along with the band’s rendition of “Ironic.”
“Is Alanis Morissette Canadian?” Emma asked with surprise.
“Nooo,” Sophie and Reid cried.
“No, she’s not or…? Oh.” Emma wrinkled her nose, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“We’re going to need a Kiwi exception, or we’ll all be too drunk to walk home.” Reid waved at Quinley who carried over a tray of B-52s.
After her second shot, Sophie ignored the margarita and stuck with water. The alcohol was making her feel loose and sexy, far too aware of Logan beside her smelling all showered and fresh, looking sharp in his snazzy shorts and crisp short-sleeved button-down shirt.
“Good turnout,” she said as an excuse to turn her back on him and look at the crowd.
When he leaned forward to speak next to her ear, his breath disturbed the fine hairs on the back of her neck.
“Why is he still here?”
“Who?” She looked over her shoulder and he was right there, his mouth way too close to her own.
He had kissed her! She kept trying to pretend he hadn’t, and she kept running into the reality that the spark had still sizzled between them, as amazing as she remembered it, which made the whole thing way too unsettling.
He wasn’t looking at her mouth right now, though. She followed his gaze to where Nolan was sitting with a handful of locals.
“He wanted to stay for Biyen’s birthday party tomorrow.” And Biyen was having fun camping in the yard with him. Sophie didn’t mind. It was nice that Biyen was having a good time with his father, but was still under her nose where she got to see him every morning.
“Sopheeeee!” Randy burst from the crowd.
“Randy!” she cried. “You’re back!”
Randy was a chunky guy with a heavy beard and hair that needed cutting. He ignored both his employers as he held his fists in the air and released a very loud and triumphant, “I passed my final exaaaaam!”
“What? Ahh!” Sophie threw herself off the chair and hugged him, finding herself picked up and spun in a circle while she clung to his bulky shoulders.
“Dance with me!”
He didn’t give her a choice, basically carrying her to the dance floor where the band started “The Safety Dance.”
They both sang along, leaving behind the friends who didn’t dance because they were “no friends of mine.”
“You’re drunk,” she accused as the song ended.
“So drunk,” he agreed, dancing wildly.
His exuberance was infectious, especially because this news meant he was back full-time. The work load on her would lighten considerably and that was definitely a reason to celebrate.
She danced with him through “I’m Like a Bird” and “Everybody Wants to Be Like You,” then left him chest-bumping with Kenneth while she threaded her way back to the table in time to see Emma lead Reid onto the floor.
Traitor.
“That’s good news,” Logan said as Sophie retook her chair. “About Randy.”
“Is it ever. Your dad would have loved this band.” She cocked an ear as they shifted into a Guess Who/BTO medley. “It was all seventies, all the time, in the office. It drove Randy nuts. He’s more of a Drake fan.”
“Is Drake Can—That’s a joke,” Logan insisted when she flung him a look of outrage. “I know he’s Canadian. I’ve met him.” His brows went up in self-deprecation at his own brag.
“Really. When? How?”
“A party.” He shrugged it off. “I’m sure he forgot my name the second he heard it. Everyone was trying to talk to him.”
