Read Online The Kiss That Launched 1,000 Gifs by Sheralyn Pratt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sheralyn Pratt
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Bourguignon,” Ryan was saying to Phillip. He was a sales rep at the vineyard who clearly had an eye on Phillip’s business.
“It’s a strong candidate,” Phillip agreed, which was his way of saying Not going to happen.
So why were they still there talking to the man?
Grace glanced at the clock on the wall, watching it creep closer to 11:00 p.m. She was down to six hours of sleep. She took a slow breath and tried to keep her anxiousness from showing on her face.
“What do you think, Grace?” Ryan asked.
I think it’s 11:00, and I thought we’d be gone two hours ago. “The ’12 has a very full, mellow flavor to it,” she said with a smile. “I enjoyed it.”
Pleasant without implying commitment, that’s how Phillip liked her to respond at events like this. Once upon a time, Grace had fun finding ways to do just that, but when she’d realized no one was really listening she’d stopped putting effort into her responses.
Grace was arm candy. She knew it, and despite her personal politics, she was okay with it. Her mom was both beautiful and smart, and Grace spent her entire life watching her mom use both beauty and brains to get the results she wanted. It was a compelling combination that Grace had put into action more than once herself.
But not this night, and not with this crowd. There wasn’t a single man in the room who cared if Grace had a brain. She was present to send the visual message that Phillip had high expectations both of himself and those he had relationships with—business and personal. Yet between the wine, the time, and an ever-expanding numb zone stemming from her shoes, Grace’s role in that messaging was fading fast.
“I agree,” Phillip said, swirling the liquid in his glass. “The ’12 is excellent, but I had been hoping that your ’07 Charbono would be making an appearance tonight.”
Ryan smiled knowingly. “You know we have an exclusive contract with that line. Every bottle was purchased the year they were bottled.”
“I understand,” Phillip replied. “But we both know that everything is always for sale.”
Really? This was Phillip’s angle for dragging her here, and he was just getting to it?
“I need to sit down for a moment,” she said with an abruptness that earned her a surprised look from Phillip.
“Of course,” Ryan said, moving to a nearby table and pulling out a seat. “You’ve been standing for hours in those heels.”
Yes. She had. Longer than Ryan knew, but she said nothing as she moved to the offered seat and lowered herself into it. Heaven above, she might never stand again.
Phillip glanced her way as Ryan returned to their discussion and Grace tapped on her wrist to indicate the time. Phillip blinked his acknowledgment then focused his attention back on Ryan.
Grace rolled her neck, a sigh of relief leaving her before she could stop it. A yawn followed, paired with the deep desire to toe out of her shoes. She couldn’t go that far though. Once those bad boys came off, nothing would be going back onto her feet until morning. They had to stay on until she and Phillip reached the car.
To distract both her mind and her hands, Grace pulled out her cell phone and checked on her accounts. Everything was quiet except Instagram. 217 notifications since her last check in. That much activity this late at night? Grace was almost afraid to look.
She pulled up Ashton’s account to see what brush fire he had started this time. When the picture of a plate full of food with every ingredient separated out into their own little containers. She recognized the plate and the dish as the grilled mahi mahi at Phillip’s. Below it was a caption.
I came to Phillip’s and asked for the Grace Vasquez Special. This is what I got. Bon appétit?
It looked delicious and, based on the comments, listeners agreed. If Ashton had been going for a diss, he’d missed.
But that was beside the point. The point was that Ashton was successfully engaging their listeners.
“It’s a strong candidate,” Phillip agreed, which was his way of saying Not going to happen.
So why were they still there talking to the man?
Grace glanced at the clock on the wall, watching it creep closer to 11:00 p.m. She was down to six hours of sleep. She took a slow breath and tried to keep her anxiousness from showing on her face.
“What do you think, Grace?” Ryan asked.
I think it’s 11:00, and I thought we’d be gone two hours ago. “The ’12 has a very full, mellow flavor to it,” she said with a smile. “I enjoyed it.”
Pleasant without implying commitment, that’s how Phillip liked her to respond at events like this. Once upon a time, Grace had fun finding ways to do just that, but when she’d realized no one was really listening she’d stopped putting effort into her responses.
Grace was arm candy. She knew it, and despite her personal politics, she was okay with it. Her mom was both beautiful and smart, and Grace spent her entire life watching her mom use both beauty and brains to get the results she wanted. It was a compelling combination that Grace had put into action more than once herself.
But not this night, and not with this crowd. There wasn’t a single man in the room who cared if Grace had a brain. She was present to send the visual message that Phillip had high expectations both of himself and those he had relationships with—business and personal. Yet between the wine, the time, and an ever-expanding numb zone stemming from her shoes, Grace’s role in that messaging was fading fast.
“I agree,” Phillip said, swirling the liquid in his glass. “The ’12 is excellent, but I had been hoping that your ’07 Charbono would be making an appearance tonight.”
Ryan smiled knowingly. “You know we have an exclusive contract with that line. Every bottle was purchased the year they were bottled.”
“I understand,” Phillip replied. “But we both know that everything is always for sale.”
Really? This was Phillip’s angle for dragging her here, and he was just getting to it?
“I need to sit down for a moment,” she said with an abruptness that earned her a surprised look from Phillip.
“Of course,” Ryan said, moving to a nearby table and pulling out a seat. “You’ve been standing for hours in those heels.”
Yes. She had. Longer than Ryan knew, but she said nothing as she moved to the offered seat and lowered herself into it. Heaven above, she might never stand again.
Phillip glanced her way as Ryan returned to their discussion and Grace tapped on her wrist to indicate the time. Phillip blinked his acknowledgment then focused his attention back on Ryan.
Grace rolled her neck, a sigh of relief leaving her before she could stop it. A yawn followed, paired with the deep desire to toe out of her shoes. She couldn’t go that far though. Once those bad boys came off, nothing would be going back onto her feet until morning. They had to stay on until she and Phillip reached the car.
To distract both her mind and her hands, Grace pulled out her cell phone and checked on her accounts. Everything was quiet except Instagram. 217 notifications since her last check in. That much activity this late at night? Grace was almost afraid to look.
She pulled up Ashton’s account to see what brush fire he had started this time. When the picture of a plate full of food with every ingredient separated out into their own little containers. She recognized the plate and the dish as the grilled mahi mahi at Phillip’s. Below it was a caption.
I came to Phillip’s and asked for the Grace Vasquez Special. This is what I got. Bon appétit?
It looked delicious and, based on the comments, listeners agreed. If Ashton had been going for a diss, he’d missed.
But that was beside the point. The point was that Ashton was successfully engaging their listeners.
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