Pretend It's Love by Stefanie London

.”
    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
    “T hese 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