Page 70 of Sugar

With an acquiescent nod, he moved to the podium. “Thank you for this very kind, yet very unnecessary honor. I’m one small cog in a much larger mechanism and am only able to do what I do thanks to people like Vanessa and her team. The ones who work tirelessly for the greater good. And thanks to fundraisers like tonight and people like yourselves who donate to support these worthy efforts. Please pat yourselves on the back.” He started to walk away before leaning back toward the mic. “But do it after you’ve written Vanessa a check.”

The crowd laughed, and he paused to talk to the grinning woman while they both pretended to be unaware of the blinding flashes of cameras capturing the moment. After a long minute, he broke away and left her in the limelight.

“I should’ve known better than to allocate more than a minute for Mr. Wells,” she laughed into the microphone. “That just means we can kick off the rest of the evening.”

Not that he’d even been faking a smile for the crowd, but if he had, it would’ve dropped as he stalked toward me. He looked like he wanted to toss the etched glass award over his shoulder. In an effortlessly smooth move, he wrapped an arm around my waist and continued walking without missing a step.

For a brief second, I thought we were headed right back out the door, but he veered further into the room instead.

I tilted my head to smile up at him as I murmured, “So not just a fundraiser.”

“Did I forget to mention I was getting another overpriced paperweight?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“I feel like I would’ve remembered that detail.”

“To be fair, I was hoping I timed it right to miss this entire portion of the evening all together.”

“You delayed picking me up just to try to get out of speaking for thirty seconds? Now who’s the flatterer?”

His hand tightened on my hip, and he halted my steps. “Fuck, Maddie, I would’ve much rather picked you up earlier?—”

My smile grew to a reassuring grin, and I automatically put my palm to his chest. “I’m kidding.”

“Fact remains.”

Belatedly realizing how I was touching him, I started to remove my hand, but he covered it with his own.

He held it there as he added, “But I would’ve had Vic drive us around the block a few dozen times.”

I laughed, but it petered out when he released my hip but kept hold of my hand and continued to a large table near the center of the room. Two women and three men were already sitting there, and he offered a chin lift of greeting. Otherwise, he ignored them as he pulled a chair out and closer to the empty one at the same time. I took the offered seat, but he didn’t follow.

There were servers hustling around the room, but none must’ve been close enough for Easton’s liking. “If I have to sit through this, I need a drink. What do you want?”

“A Cosmo.”

He looked at me for a long stretch. “Let me rephrase. What do youactuallywant?”

“A Cosmo,” I repeated.

That time he didn’t just give me his intimidatingly blank stare down. Putting one hand to the table and one on the back of my chair, he leaned down so his face was in mine. “I’m not asking again, Madeline.”

I swallowed hard before saying, “A Dirty Shirley.”

“What the fuck is a Dirty Shirley?”

“A Shirley Temple with vodka. And an orange slice.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t give me shit about it. Instead, a hint of a smile curved his mouth. “You got it.”

I watched as he started for the bar before stopping suddenly. He returned to me.

At my questioning gaze, he ordered, “Come with me.”

Ohhhhkay.