I wring my hands together until Mark places a warm, dry hand on top of mine and says, “Relax. You don’t want to spook the boss.” He smiles encouragingly.

When he lets go, I force my hands apart and dry my sweaty palms on my skirt. “Do I look okay?”

“You look perfect. The guy’s a fool if he doesn’t notice.”

“Blair.” Richard’s voice makes me jolt. “There you are. I thought I was early, but you beat me.”

“Hi, Richard.” Even if I see him every day, my pulse starts racing and I suspect my cheeks are once again matching my red hair.

Mark winks and buys me some time to recover. “Hello there, can I get you something to drink?”

Richard scratches his head. “What are you having?” he asks me.

“Organic carrot beet ginger juice.”

“Erm, sounds delicious.” The boss tries not to make a too-disgusted face and turns toward Mark. “A pint of lager please.”

Mark’s lips twitch. “I only have American-sized pints if that’s okay?”

“You shoddy Americans.” Richard laughs and Mark chuckles along. At once, it’s like they’re old friends who’ve been running the I-am-American-you-are-British joke between them for years. This Mark guy really has a way with people.

Right at this moment, my mind’s whizzing with unspeakable thoughts so I let Mark entertain Richard while I enjoy the view. The boss didn’t shave before coming here. His jaw is already sporting a five o’clock shadow, making him even sexier than usual. From the way he casually places his sunglasses on top of his head, to the way he now rolls up the sleeves of his shirt—making me stare like the little pervert I am—everything about Richard exudes sex appeal. The only flaw being that lingering sadness behind his eyes. The one he works so hard to hide.

When he’s halfway through his beer, Richard’s phone rings. He looks at the screen and smiles apologetically. “I’ve got to take this,” he says, walking away.

“Well.” Mark smirks scratching his short beard. “I’m not an expert on guys, but the dude has charm. So what’s your plan for the weekend?”

I shrug. “Survive without embarrassing myself too much?”

“That sounds like an awful plan.”

“You have a better suggestion?”

“Live and embarrass yourself the most you can.”

“Meaning?”

“Tell him how you feel.”

A speaker in the background announces our flight.

“No way!” My stomach drops at the mere idea. “Shh, he’s coming back.”

“They announced our flight,” Richard says, and chugs the remaining half of his beer. “How much for everything?” he asks Mark.

Mark gives him the bill, and Richard pays for my juice as well. We both say goodbye to Mark, and I catch a furtive wink from my new bartender bestie as I stroll after Richard.

The boss frowns at me. “Collecting admirers?” he asks, as we walk toward our gate.

“What?”

“That bloke was all over you.”

“Who?”

“Blue eyes, standing behind the bar.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“He winked at you.”