Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

Music is playing, and the lights are dimmed, even though the sun is still up, shining through the tinted windows that line every wall.

The bar is straight ahead, with food tables on either side of the room. And a combination of low- and high-top tables are scattered throughout the space. Servers are walking around clearing dishes.

One of the project managers lifts her hand and points to the far corner with a laugh.

Looking, I feel my brows raise.

It looks like a box for a Barbie doll, only it’s big enough for multiple people to stand inside of and yellow, with one side open and the front made of something clear.

We’ve come to a stop in line for the bar, so I angle myself toward the box thing.

It’s some sort of photo booth, only there’s an actual photographer set up in front of it, and written in large letters across the clear material are the words MinneSolar and MVP and Dream Team.

When two people step inside the box, the imagery comes together.

It looks like a magazine cover.

“Clever, isn’t it?” Maddox’s voice sounds from behind me.

I nod, not wanting to talk to him, and thankfully, the two project managers jump into conversation with him about where he got it made.

“Hey, thanks for the car service.” One of the ladies beams at Maddox. “It’s a great idea.”

I glance up to see him dip his chin. “You’re welcome. I’ve used them in the past, and it’s worked out well. What’s the point in having an open bar if no one can drink?”

“Hear! Hear!” Someone raises their beer as they walk past us.

A few days ago, we all got an email with a sign-up sheet for free rides to and from work for anyone who wanted to have a drink tonight, and twenty dollars for anyone not drinking who preferred to drive themselves to and from the office. I don’t plan on getting drunk, but a few free drinks on Maddox’s dime was too tempting to turn down.

We shuffle ahead, and the ladies turn around to place their orders with the bartender.

“What’s your poison?” With the other women’s attentions occupied, I know Maddox is asking me.

“I usually end up with wine.” I try to keep my tone casual, as though the last time I saw him, he wasn’t kissing my damn face off. “You?”

“Wine is good.” There’s a gleam in his eye I don’t know what to do with. “I’m partial to whiskey though.”

The women ahead of me move to the side, and it’s my turn to order.

The counter behind the bar is lined with liquor bottles, cans of beer, and a trio of wine bottles, displaying the options. I can’t read the label on the wine bottles from here, so I just ask for a glass of white.

“And for you, sir?” the bartender asks, causing Maddox to step up next to me.

“A glass of Perro Rabioso on the rocks, please.”

The bartender grins. “Makes sense.”

I watch him pour my glass first— into a real wine glass— then he picks up a bottle of brown liquid with an angry-looking dog on the front.

And then it hits me.

“That’s yours, isn’t it?” I tip my head to look at Maddox.

The side of his mouth pulls up as he takes both drinks from the bartender and holds the wine out for me. “Yeah, it’s mine.”

I wrap my fingers around the stem, and he gently clinks our glasses together.

I don’t have a response for him, so I lift my glass and take a sip.