Working It by Leah Marie Brown

me a whisky.”
    I grab my carryon and hurry to catch up with the flirty Scot. The last time we drank whisky together, at a pub in Scotland, he drove off in his sexy sports car with my best friend. Vivian swore they only kissed, but…
    I stare at the Scot’s bulging arm muscles and broad back and wonder how any woman could stop at just a kiss. It’s like going into a Hermès boutique and saying, “I’ll just buy one little scarf.” Bullshit! Before you know it, you are leaving with a new wallet, purse, and leather loafers.
    Moderation has never been my forte, but if the Scot tries to run his smooth-charmer game on me, I will shut him down before the first quarter.
     

Chapter 13
    Some Like It Wet-n-Wild
     
    Text from Vivia Perpetua Grant:
    Did you know Alaska Fashion Week is an annual four day event that takes place in Anchorage?
     
    Text to Vivia Perpetua Grant:
    Oh, goodie! It’s long been my secret wish to watch a model stomp the runway wearing a pair of mukluks.
     
    We take a seat at one of the small tables in the back of the restaurant, my suitcases piled in the corner behind my chair. A young woman with a high blond ponytail and theatrical peacock blue eyeliner arrives to take our order. She rests her hand on Calder’s shoulder, bats her clumpy eyelashes, and breathlessly asks if she can take his order.
    The eighties just rang. They want their Wet-n-Wild eyeliner back, Tiffani.
    Calder orders an appetizer—crispy cheddar bites, battered, deep-fried, and served with an ancho-chili ranch dip—and two whiskies.
    “Are ye hungry, lass?” He smiles at me over the top of the menu. “Would ye like to order something else to eat?”
    I am famished, but Chili’s Too only offers two salads: the buffalo chicken ranch and the quesadilla explosion. I don’t need to read the descriptions to know that they are probably over a thousand calories each.
    “No, thank you.”
    Tiffani takes my greasy menu and promises to return with our drinks without as much as a glance in my direction.
    We make small talk until Miss Wet-n-Wild returns with our drinks. She places Calder’s whisky on a napkin, leaning over him, her breasts brushing his arm. She’s less careful with my whisky. No napkin. No breasts.
    “Enjoy,” she purrs. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you.” She sashays away, ponytail swinging, hips swiveling.
    “ Incroyable! ”
    “What?” He looks at me with wide mock-innocent eyes.
    “Is there a woman alive who hasn’t fallen for…for…”
    “For what?”
    I wave my hand in his direction. “All of that.”
    “I dinnea ken what ye’re talking aboot,” he says, his brogue as thick as his forearms. “All of what, lass?”
    “You know exactly what I am talking aboot, Calder McFlirty.” I cross my arms and narrow my gaze. “Your whole grinning, winking, flexing Hottie Scottie routine.”
    “Oh, I dinnea ken,” he says, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “It doesn’t seem to be having much of an effect on ye.”
    He fixes me with his intense blue-eyed stare, and my stomach does another of those queer flip-flops.
    “Oh my God. Are you flirting with me?”
    “Do ye want me to be flirting with ye, banfhlath ?”
    “What is bafflelass?”
    “ Banfhlath ,” he repeats. “It means princess.”
    Princess? I don’t even know what to say to that, so I just laugh and roll my eyes.
    “Shall we?” Calder lifts his glass. “To whisky and flirting that warms yer innards.”
    My face flushes with heat, and I have to force myself to keep looking into his sparkling blue eyes. Arrogant bastard!
    “Sláinte.”
    I curl my fingers around my glass, lift it in salute, and then drain the contents in one throat-stinging swallow. Calder watches me, chuckles, and tips the whisky into his mouth. Damn him! I want to look away, but the arrogant ass might misinterpret it as me being embarrassed by his faux flirting—or worse, into him.
    “Slow down, lass,” he says. “Drinking