Pretend It's Love by Stefanie London Page A

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.”
    Des nodded. “I’ll be honest, when you first came to me I thought the whole thing was a bit gimmicky. But I misjudged the product—it’s really good.”
    Hope curled in Libby’s gut; she had the feeling Des wasn’t one to hand out praise too easily. This was definitely a positive step forward, all she had to do now was convince him that his customers would select her bottles from the shelf.
    “Having a few flavored vodkas would really open up the opportunity for a specialized cocktail menu,” Paul interjected, opening the last bottle and pouring four shots. “And mixology classes.”
    Des raised a brow. “Mixology classes?”
    “Libby and I came up with this brilliant idea—”
    “I’m not taking credit,” she said, holding up her hands. “That was all you.”
    “We—I—want to start up my own mixology school. I thought we could run classes on how to create professional cocktails at home or for parties, teach people the theory behind mixing the perfect drink. It would be a perfect branding partnership for Libby Gal Cocktails as well.” His face was neutral but she sensed a nervous energy in the way he bounced his leg next to hers under the table. “I could run it during the week. It will bring more people into the bar on our quiet nights, make some extra revenue if we couple the classes with a dinner here.”
    “Do you have a business plan?” Des asked.
    “Uh…no.”
    “A concept without a business plan is just an idea. I’d need to see numbers, stats, and how you think we’ll fund this activity before I can even consider it.”
    Paul looked as though he’d run full speed into a brick wall. Sure, she hadn’t expected Des to fawn over his idea, but some semblance of positive feedback would have been nice. Some brotherly support perhaps?
    Knowing Des a little better, she had the feeling it wasn’t personal. He took his business very seriously, and Paul was his younger brother. Maybe this had something to do with why Paul felt it necessary to have a fake girlfriend?
    “Sure, I’ll put something together,” Paul said.
    “I’m not going to be able to make it to the car if we keep drinking at this rate,” Gracie said, in an obvious attempt to move the conversation along. However, she didn’t hesitate to accept another shot when Paul handed it to her. “Is this lavender?”
    “Yeah, I source it from a huge farm in Daylesford. They have a whole food and drink menu based around it, and that’s where I got the idea to make a lavender infusion.” She turned to Des. “You might like this one, too. I didn’t add anything sweet to it, so it’s more herbal than floral.”
    “Lavender?” He looked sceptical. “I guess we’ll soon find