I bob my head and turn toward the bartender just as he slides a drink in front of me. The glass is cold in my hand, the liquid a deep, reddish color. From my quick taste, I deduce it’s Chapman or something that probably won’t knock me out tonight. Allie isn’t drinking, thanks to the doctor’s orders. I take a sip, exhaling slowly, feeling my dress threatening to squeeze me into oblivion.
I’m really tempted to glance over at Braydon, but Allie would chop my head off if I did. That dark, hungry look in his eyes when he saw me… yeah, it’s definitely something.
A moment later, a guy slides up to Allie, starting a conversation. Great. Just great. Now I’m left sitting alone. My fingers itch to reach for my phone, but Allie has made it clear: pulling out your phone in a place like this is the nu
