Dipping a Toe in Sugar (A Taste of Sugar Book 1) by Rocklyn Ryder

Author:Rocklyn Ryder [Ryder, Rocklyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

"...and don't be put off by Chloe," Brighton tells me for about the 17th time as he taps lightly on the door, "she's harmless--"

The door swings open with all the flourish one would expect from anyone that looks like the person greeting us from the doorway does.

"Mostly."

I hear Brighton mumble just before he disappears into a cloud of cleavage, feathers, and multi-colored lame.

"Mister, you are looking fine tonight!"

I assume this is the notorious Chloe I've been warned about throughout our 24 block cab ride, the 6 hour flight to New York, and periodically throughout the last couple of weeks since Brighton added it to my calendar with an email that made it very clear that my attendance was non-negotiable.

Brighton pulls himself free with a cough and a sputter while I wait patiently, still on the hallway side of the threshold of the 3rd floor of the industrial building-turned-apartments in what I assume is the type of up and coming renovated neighborhoods of New York that peons like me only hear about on TV.

Or maybe it really is just an old storage warehouse on a bad side of town.

It's hard to tell from this side of the door.

"Oooooh!"

Next thing I know I'm choking on feathers myself as I'm pulled into an overly familiar bearhug of my own.

"You must be Brighton's new toy, doll!" I feel myself being gripped by my shoulders and held back while I gasp for air. "He told me he was bringing someone 'special,' but you are not what I was expecting!"

I don't know if I just got called Brighton's "toy doll" or if I'm Brighton's "toy" and Chloe's "doll."

My head bobbles in what I think is Brighton's general direction while I'm being spun around and given a thorough once over-- maybe twice over.

"This is my friend, Paula," I can hear the amusement in Brighton's voice, "Paula, this is Chloe."

Once I'm finally released from Chloe's grip, Brighton reaches out and gives me his arm as if he knows all too well how dizzy I am from our hostess's greeting.

"Mmm," Chloe rocks back on her hip and gives Brighton a skeptical eye, "sure, 'friend,' whatever you say, Doll."

Her gaze lands on me with a wink of one expertly-applied, theatrically-long fake-eyelashed eye-- her eyelashes appear to be made out of purple foil-- and she shoots a quick smirk at me as if Brighton isn't even there.

"Well, you are an improvement over that hot mess he brought to my little soiree last season. Let's get you a drink and get you talking, Doll."

Suddenly I'm being whisked across a large, open floor plan toward the bar while Chloe names off everyone we pass along our way- along with a brief mention of how she knows them, and why they were deemed worthy of this season's guest list.

Brighton follows us, stopping to meet and greet people along the way, until he finds me a few minutes later with a purple martini in my hand while I listen to a handsome man in a tuxedo made out of peacock feathers tell me about swimming with penguins in Argentina.

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