Not Quite Over You (Page 50)
“I have.” He sounded smug. “I did what you said. I filled an empty vodka bottle with water and got a shot glass with a line that marked an ounce. It took a bit, but I can pour that amount perfectly.”
Or so he thought.
Just to be sure, she said, “Make me a dry martini. With a twist.”
“Gin or vodka?”
He put ice into the shaker, poured in what she was pretty sure he thought was two and a half ounces of gin, then a half ounce of vermouth, followed by a dash of angostura bitters. He put the top on the shaker and shook it several times before pouring it into a martini glass. He added a twist of lemon peel to the edge of the glass.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, coming to her feet. “Give me five seconds.”
She ran upstairs and let herself into her apartment. After rummaging through a kitchen drawer, she found a measuring spoon. When she was back in the bar, she held it out to Drew.
“You know a pour equals one ounce, right?”
“Yes. An ounce.” He frowned. “Silver, I used a shot glass to make sure I had it right.”
“I’m sure you did. The thing is a shot glass from a liquor store can be one ounce or it can be an ounce and a half. They don’t always say and if you aren’t familiar with the difference and you don’t check…”
His shoulders fell a little. “You’re saying I used the wrong one? How could you tell?”
“I watched you making drinks. I know how long it takes to pour an ounce. You did more than that. Not only will we go through too much liquor, everyone will be drunker than expected and the drinks themselves will be off.” She nodded at an old-fashioned glass. “Pour me an ounce.”
He did as she requested. When he was done, she handed him the spoon.
“Measure it back out.”
He measured out two tablespoons. There was still liquid in the bottom of the glass.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I spent hours learning that pour.”
“Do you use a count?”
“So all you have to do is figure out what the real count is. It won’t take that long for you to change it.”
“I feel ridiculous.”
She smiled. “You worked really hard. You know your drinks. That’s impressive. You’ll get this, too.”
“I still can’t believe you figured it out just by watching me make two drinks.” He eyed her. “You knew on the old-fashioned, didn’t you? You just wanted to be sure.”
“It’s my business, Drew. I’ve been doing this for a while. I have expertise.”
“I can’t believe I got the pour wrong. So much for dazzling you.”
“I’m still dazzled. Just by other things.”
* * *
DREW RETURNED TO the bank around one-thirty. He couldn’t believe he’d messed up his pour, but he would fix it. Practicing the drinks had been fun and he was looking forward to being a regular member of the team. With his bank job filling his week, he would only help out a couple of times a month, but it would be an interesting change.
He sat through a meeting on banking regulations and met with a client before retreating to his office to clear his emails. Tomorrow he was spending the evening with Autumn while Silver hosted her first ever bachelorette party in the space downstairs. He’d had to figure out what he was making for dinner. Ordering in pizza seemed too predictable.
He had a great chicken enchilada recipe he could put together tonight, and then bake at her place. If he didn’t make it too spicy, he was sure Autumn would like it. Maybe that with chips and salsa and a salad. He wanted something fun for dessert. He called the local bakery to see if he could pick up a dozen unfrosted cupcakes. He and Autumn could frost them together. He would grab tubes of frosting when he went to the grocery store to buy what he needed for the rest of the dinner.
“You’re looking pleased about something,” Libby said from the doorway to his office. “I’m glad. I was worried about you for a while.”
Drew looked at his aunt. He’d always gotten along with her, even when he’d been a kid. He sensed he wasn’t her favorite, but she made an effort. She’d resented him coming to work at the bank, but had recovered and from his point of view, they had a decent business relationship. Now he wondered how much of that was because he was considered the heir apparent at the bank. There was a better than even chance that she could be reporting to him in a matter of weeks.
“May I?” Libby asked as she walked in and took one of the chairs. She touched her pearl necklace. “I see you and Silver are back together. That’s nice. I was afraid it was just a short-term thing, but it seems to be lasting.” She gave him a smile that seemed more terrorizing than friendly. “I remember when you two were together that summer so many years ago. And to think you had a child and no one knew.”
So much for playing nice, he thought as he leaned back in his chair. “My mother knows about Autumn,” he said mildly. “In case you were wondering.”
“Is that her name? I’ve seen her around town. She’s a lovely girl. She seems very sweet. Your grandfather was very smitten by her.”
“I’m glad. She’s his first great-grandchild.”
Libby’s gaze was sharp. “I suppose technically that’s true. Although she isn’t a legitimate child, is she?”
Tension gripped him but he ignored the need to get in her face. “Are you calling my daughter a bastard?”
“Of course not. Drew, what an ugly thing to imply.”
“I didn’t imply it. I asked the question. Libby, let me be clear. Think what you want, do what you want, but stay far, far away from Autumn. If you try to upset her or say bad things about her, I will take you down.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s unnecessarily threatening.”
“Maybe so, but I mean it, Libby. She’s my daughter and I will stand between her and anyone who threatens her.”
Color stained her cheeks. “Well, I never. You’re acting like some deranged animal.”
“And here I thought we were just having a conversation.”
She rose and left. He watched her go, wondering if there was any way she was working with his mother to somehow screw with his life. As soon as the thought formed, he dismissed it. His mother wouldn’t trust Libby with something as important as his future. Which meant his aunt had an agenda all her own. The concept was not the least bit comforting.
SILVER COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d been so nervous about an event. She’d handled much larger parties—Bethany and Cade’s “we’re getting married” shindig was going to be huge, but she was only mildly concerned about that one. The bachelorette party was only twelve women. What was the big deal?
Georgiana arrived right on time. Silver had already done most of the prep work, setting out glasses and bottles, getting the ice machine cranking and giving the space a last-minute polish. Georgiana greeted her and got right to work chopping up garnishes.
“This is going to be so fun,” she said as she worked. “You and Drew did a great job with the space. I love the stripper poles. Are they bringing in an instructor tonight? I really want to see them in action.”
Silver grinned. “I don’t think the poles are supposed to move.”