ith a back-off-now glare. He
reddens and quickly hands Christian my coat check ticket.
“Let me show you to your table.” Miss Satin Hot Pants flutters her eyelashes
at my husband, flicks her long blond hair, and sashays through the entryway. I
tighten my grip around Christian, and he gazes down at me questioningly for
a moment, then smirks as we follow Miss Satin Hot Pants into the bar.
The lighting is muted, the walls are black, I think, and the furnishings deep
red. There are booths flanking two sides of the walls and a large U-shaped
bar in the middle. It’s busy, given that we’re here off-season, but not too
crowded with the well-heeled of Aspen out for a good time on a Saturday
night. The dress code is relaxed, and for the first time I feel a little over . . .
um, underdressed. I’m not sure which. The floor and walls vibrate with the
music pulsing from the dance floor behind the bar and lights are whirling and
flashing on and off. In my heady state I idly think it’s an epileptic’s nightmare.
Satin Hot Pants leads us to a corner booth that’s been roped off. It’s near the
bar with access to the dance floor. Clearly the best seats in the house.
“There’ll be someone along to take your order shortly.” She gives us her full
megawatt smile and, with a final flutter of eyelashes at my husband, sashays
back from where she came. Mia is already jigging from foot to foot, itching to
get onto the dance floor, and Ethan takes pity on her.
“Champagne?” Christian asks as they head off hand in hand toward the
dance floor. Ethan gives him a thumbs-up and Mia nods enthusiastically.
Kate and Elliot sit back on the soft velvet seating, hand in hand. They look so
happy, their features soft and radiant in the glow from the tea lights flickering
in crystal holders on the low table. Christian gestures for me to sit, and I
scoot in beside Kate. He takes a seat beside me and anxiously scans the
room.
“Show me your ring.” I raise my voice over the music. I will be hoarse by the
time we lea一
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