Meet the Delta Team by Cristin Harber

Author:Cristin Harber
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NLA Digital LLC
Published: 2016-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Emma

Vevy’s is rocking. It’s a fancy steakhouse with a bar that makes colorful drinks in snazzy glasses. Creative Direct has a corporate account here to entertain clients, and they spend a serious amount of dough, which is why the bartender has turned a blind eye to my birthday not actually arriving for two more days.

My co-workers mill around, wishing me a happy birthday. Even Jeremy dropped in for two point five seconds and another boss-appropriate side hug. I’m playing the part of the birthday girl, but I can’t stop staring at my phone.

At first I was convinced Cherry would call with a crying Cally. So I called Cherry. Twice. Both times, Cally was absolutely fine with not having seen me since this morning. She even told me I would be okay. Maybe my snugglebug is growing up faster than I’m ready for.

But that’s not the only reason I keep looking at my phone. For every sip I take, I stare at my cell and slowly drain its battery.

“Thinking about Grayson or Cally?” Sarah asks.

“Oh…um, both.”

She nods. “So if you’re not going to tell Cherry right away, I assume Ryan will be told…never?”

God, Sarah’s right. If my brother finds out Grayson’s alive and back in the States, Summerland’s favorite rookie cop might just kill the guy.

The shoulder-to-shoulder crowd shifts behind me.

“Happy birthday!”

I turn around and see some of the girls from Emerald’s. New faces, but really, there are always new faces. The turnover there is ridiculous. Sarah knows I’m friendly with them, and most of them wouldn’t turn down a party, much less the only time I’ll probably ever go out for drinks.

“Hey, girls!”

My fake excitement rings true to them, and we do the necessary small talk. This isn’t exactly what they’d picture for a twenty-first birthday party, but they’re sweet to show up at Sarah’s last-minute invitation.

“Bruno sends his love.” Dominique, who has been there the longest out of the girls here, holds a card.

My cocktail buzz has me more giggly than I’m used to. Bruno sending a birthday card is like Sarah jumping on the bar to strip—it won’t happen unless there’s a catch. I’m unsure about opening the card in public, but Bruno has some tact. I think. “What is it?”

“No idea,” she says, handing it over. “But we’re all dying to know.”

I set my drink down and rip open the card. It’s on thick card stock with Emerald’s embossed along the top.

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