Yeah, he did. More than he wanted to. But somehow the knowledge that he was helping Libby seemed to override everything else. Besides, Des hadn’t really given her a fair chance. Tonight Libby’s hard work and his ideas would do the talking.

“What would be the difference if we were really dating?” he asked. “And I thought you said you’d do anything to make your business a success.”

He pulled out six bottles of vodka in a variety of flavors. Each had its own colored label sporting the Libby Gal logo. They looked feminine and professional, something he could easily imagine selling out at First. Des had been a fool not to see that.

“Why don’t we make them a cocktail?” he said, carrying the bottles to his bar.

The bar was the area in his house where he felt most comfortable, the creative outlet he craved when everything else turned to shit. He’d built it himself, customized it to exactly what he wanted. The shelves were stocked with his favorite spirits and liquors, a bar fridge contained other ingredients required for cocktail creation, and a wine fridge sat next to it.

“Wow, this is amazing.” Libby ran her hand along the bar’s polished surface. “You’ve got everything here.”

“What can I say, I like to drink.” He shrugged.

“No, you like to create.” Her eyes lit up, the anxiousness from earlier draining out of her features as she went behind the bar. “If you just liked to drink you’d have a fridge full of beer like every other man in Australia.”

She turned to the rows of cocktail glasses hanging upside down beside tumblers, highballs, and shot glasses. Her fingertips danced along the stem of a martini glass.

“Which of those is your favorite?” He turned the vodka bottles so they all faced the same way like a rainbow of infused goodness. Lemon myrtle, marshmallow and rose petal, fig and vanilla bean, lavender, basil and orange, strawberry and spearmint.

“The marshmallow and rose petal.” She picked up the bottle with the pink label. “I made this for a friend’s wedding, and it’s what gave me the confidence to start Libby Gal Cocktails.”

He nodded and took the bottle from her, opening it. The scent of fluffy pink candies danced with delicate rose petals, it was definitely not the flavor Paul would have chosen but this was about Libby’s tastes, not his.

He grabbed two shot glasses from the bar and filled them to the brim. “Drink.”

“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.”