Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,71

has been undergoing some renovations.”

“Ah. I could show you my place, then.”

You mean you could show me my own place. She tried not to laugh. “Sure. I’d love to see your place.” It would be easier to work on his lines there. Though maybe he’d had too much to drink for that.

“You on the pill?”

What? She jerked in his arms, and they both stumbled. He righted them and shot her a smile. She threw her head back and laughed.

“What?” He laughed along with her, but uncertainly. He thought she was laughing at him, and he wasn’t used to that.

“Honey, you’re drunk.”

“So?”

“I’m your director.”

“So?”

“So that’s two avenues in which I could take advantage of the situation.”

“Please do.”

She stopped laughing and pondered him. Holden was ridiculously good-looking. And fun, when she wasn’t trying to get him to do his job—she’d truly had a great time this evening goofing around with him and the girls.

And now it seemed that he was propositioning her. What even was her life?

But aside from the moral yuckiness, he just…didn’t do it for her.

He was looking adorably bewildered, so she kissed him on the cheek and was about to tell him to go home, when someone intruded on their circle.

“I brought you a glass of wine.” Benjamin. Speaking to her but looking at Holden.

“Thanks, but I don’t have my wallet with me.” That was a lie. She had it—it was in her purse—but it was empty. She was living on credit card fumes. “So I’ve been taking up space in your bar without buying anything,” she said cheerily to deflect from the fact that she hated doing that.

Law withdrew his attention from Holden and transferred it to her. But only for a second before he was back to scowling at Holden. “I don’t know why your boyfriend here didn’t buy you a drink.”

She was about to correct the record with a He’s not my boyfriend retort, but she stopped herself. She, to her continuing surprise, did not even harbor one little speck of attraction to Holden, but Benjamin did not need to know that.

“Oh, right,” Holden said. “Sorry. You want a drink, Maya?”

She smiled sweetly at him. “I’d love a drink, thanks.”

Holden pulled out a twenty, but Benjamin just stood there. She’d assumed he would hand over the wine, but that did not seem to be the plan. He might even have—she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it—pulled the glass a tiny bit closer to his chest as Holden tried to pay for it.

Nope, not imagining it. In fact, he leaned his torso back, rotated, and handed her the wine. “On the house.”

“Uh, thanks. That’s nice of you.” It was, even though he was being weird.

“But isn’t your wine always on the house?” Holden asked. “Or at least the second glass?”

Huh? She turned to Holden. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it sort of seems like when other people order a glass of wine, they get a glass of wine. But when we’re here working on lines and you order a glass of wine, you get a glass of wine but then you keep getting it topped up.”

“That’s…”

True? Also surprisingly observant for Holden?

She’d assumed that was what Benjamin did for regulars. She searched her memory. The problem was her friends weren’t really wine drinkers. It wasn’t like he was going to take someone’s entire pint glass and refill it with beer for free. That was different from a little top-up of wine, wasn’t it?

While she pondered, Benjamin turned his death glare onto Holden. “I charge appropriately.”

I charge appropriately? What did that mean?

Holden rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude.” To Maya he said, “I’m going to hit the bathroom.”

As soon as Holden was gone, Benjamin leaned forward. “Crystal Palace season opener next Saturday,” he whispered.

She blinked, adjusting from the history of drink pouring to…“Is that your way of suggesting a truce?” She had been so stressed about the play, she’d lost track of time, but the season was due to start.

“It might be,” he said.

There wasn’t precedent for this, for him inviting her over. The way they normally played the truce game was she told him when she was coming over.

When she didn’t answer right away, he asked, “And will you be coming over for it?”

Well, regardless of all this weirdness, she wasn’t missing the first match of the season. “Yes.”

“And do you want to watch it live?” he asked. “It’s on at ten a.m. our time.”

They had never done that. They always watched archived matches late at night. “Yes,” she