She was crazy to sit here any longer than she had to, but he could admit to himself he was glad to have someone around besides Mason and Gabe. She served both as an excuse not to hang with them and as someone to keep him from getting lost in his head.

“Let’s go to the cafeteria, get the hell out of here for a few.” He stood without waiting for her to answer, and she rose with a nod.

They had to walk by Mason and Gabe to get to the elevators to the lower-level cafeteria.

“Can we get you guys something to drink?” Sierra asked as they approached. She was nicer than him, as he wouldn’t have asked.

“No, thank you,” Mason said.

“I’m good,” was Gabe’s response.

“Text me if there’s news,” Cole said and then he ushered Sierra away with his hand on her waist. He didn’t know if he’d ever touched her in a personal way before tonight, and all the previous ones, at the reception, were required, but this one was for him. He needed the contact.

The elevators were down the hall and around a corner, and when they turned, the noise and cacophony faded by several degrees. Cole breathed in the relative calmness as they waited for the car to arrive.

“It’s a madhouse back there,” Sierra said.

“One of the nine circles of hell. Not sure which one.”

The doors opened to an empty elevator and they stepped in. When they exited one floor lower, it was immediately evident that the cafeteria was closed. Though there were no doors and all the seating looked to be accessible, a metal gate blocked off the area with the stainless-steel food service counters, and two thirds of the lights were off. The remaining third illuminated the route to the attached vending machine haven. They walked toward it, her heels clicking on the hard floor.

There was a vending machine that brewed coffee, and they went directly to it. Cole took out his card. “My treat.”

“Vending machine coffee is my favorite,” Sierra said lightly, then tilted her head slightly, as if struck by an idea. “They should make one of these for wine.”

“Or beer,” he said as he handed her the first paper cup of “freshly brewed” coffee. The machine dispensed his, he grabbed it, and they walked by the other vending machines. “Want something to eat?”

She homed in on the machine that offered every kind of candy under the sun. “I got this,” she said, opening her purse. “You like Peanut Butter M&Ms?”

“No.”

“What?” She paused with her card halfway to the machine and looked at him, jaw gaping, as if he’d said babies weren’t cute.

“Plain or peanut are good. Almond is okay. But if you want peanut butter, there’s Reese’s.”