He grinned and shook his head, taking another sip from his glass. “You forget, I’ve been doing this for a very long time...”
The fight was over and the ballroom had emptied. Even the caterers had packed up and gone home. The only people left were the occasional janitors—who would skitter in to begin their cleaning, then skitter back out when they saw the two people left in the room.
Nick and I were perched upon one of the abandoned tables. Shoes off. Drinks in our hands. Gazing sleepily at the deserted boxing ring.
I
never did find out who’d won the match. When I’d asked him—Nick didn’t know either. He’d just told me, ‘it was the one with the gloves,’ and left it at that.
For that matter...I didn’t even know why we were the only ones left.
“Why are we still here?” I asked suddenly.
I’d been to enough parties in Nick’s entourage to know that he was never the last one to leave. Quite the contrary, he tended to swoop in, sample the best there was to offer, and then swoop back out—off to his next event. Usually with a different girl draped over his arm.
“I had to stay to the end this time.” He stifled a yawn, downing the rest of his champagne in a single gulp. “I was hosting the event.”
“You were hosting?” I repeated in surprise.
It was a testament to how well my team was running things back at the office, that I didn’t know that already. It was also a testament to how thoroughly Nick had been looking forward to showing me off—that he would offer to sponsor an event of this magnitude.
Then something else clicked into place.
“Wait minute...” I repeated with a frown. “You were hosting the event, and the thing kicked off with you and a girl locked in the coat room?”
Nick paused, considering. Then dismissed it with a simple shrug.
“I like to start things out with a bang.”
The two of us fell silent. I shot him a look. He pursed his lips.
“...no pun intended.”
“And that is enough alcohol for you,” I giggled, taking the empty flute from his hand and setting it on the floor.
But I was hardly in better shape myself. I almost tipped over just reaching toward the ground. He reached out quickly and caught me with a quiet chuckle.
“You know, I never realized it before...but you’re a klutz, Abby.”
What?! Absurd!
“A klutz?!” I repeated incredulously. “I am not!”
“You are,” he was openly laughing now, “you totally are! How could I not have seen it?”
I put my hands on my hips, bristling defensively. “If I’m such a klutz, then how was I able to dance all over this ballroom in those enormous heels?”
He didn’t miss a beat.
“I was supporting you.”
Shit. Well played. But I had some dirt on Nick as well...
I jutted up my chin, sniffing self-righteously as I tossed back my hair. “I’m not going to debate the issue of ‘clumsiness’ with a man who crashed a hot air balloon into the Hudson.”
“ONE time, Abby! That was ONE time!”
“It was a fucking hot air balloon, Nick!” I countered, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. “You don’t get to dismissive it away with a one time.”