"Where'd Brent go? He's not off doing work on my last day in town, is he?" She swiveled in her chair to search for her errant friend, tilted awkwardly, and then smiled gratefully when Reece reached over to steady her.
"You're drunk," he said. Not in accusation, but as one might state the weather.
"It's your fault." She lifted the beer bottle. "Your invention. Your fault. And I do say. In honor of me."
"You do say?" he repeated, rubbing his beard as his brow furrowed in confusion before clearing. "Oh, about the drink going on the menu. All right. In honor of you. I'll call them Long Neck Jennas."
She wrinkled her nose. "That's horrible."
"Got a better name?"
She squinted at the longneck bottle. Rum. Corona. Lime. One bottle, all loaded up. She smiled up at him. "Loaded Coronas."
His mouth twitched. He reached across the table, then brushed his fingertip over the tip of her nose. "Done."
"Yeah?"
"Assuming Tyree agrees."
"Let's ask him."
"He's with Brent, remember?"
She shook her head to clear it, trying to play back the last half hour or so.
Watching her, Reece laughed. "You are so wasted."
"So? Last hurrah, remember? Besides, it dulls the pain."
He took her hands. "Hey, none of that. This is a good thing, remember? Just one month ago, you told me so yourself."
The memory of the phone call offering her the job in Los Angeles set off a fresh storm of emotion. "You're right. It is. I mean, the company's got an amazing reputation, and I'm going to get so much experience. It's a dream job--working with a premier event planner in Beverly Hills. It's exactly the kind of job I was hoping for when I quit teaching to go back for my marketing degree. I mean, a company that's behind most celebrity charity events? Half of my graduating class would kill for this job."
"But?"
She raised a shoulder. "Just nerves, I guess. I'm almost twenty-nine, and I've never lived anywhere but Austin. And, well, I'll miss you guys."
A shadow flickered in his eyes. "Yeah, I know. We'll miss you, too. But it's not forever. You get the experience, you move back to Texas, and you take the city by storm."
Laughter bubbled up in her. "Is that the plan?"
"Written in stone, baby. I've got all sorts of faith in you."
"I know you do," she said softly, meaning the words with all her heart. "And it helps."
For a moment, a pleasant silence lingered. Then she tilted her head toward the hall leading to the office. "Should we go find Brent? We're supposed to meet Amanda at the Broken Spoke." Jenna was lousy at country-western dancing, but there was no way she was leaving Texas without another go. And besides, Brent could two-step like a pro. If anyone could make her look good on a dance floor, it was him.
"Probably should. But you've had four of those things, and that's a lot of rum. Not to mention the beer. Are you sure you can dance?"
"Oh, please. We both know I couldn't dance before. There's no place to go but up." Laughing, she slid an arm around his waist, for both camaraderie and support. He stiffened, then relaxed, and she was about to ask what was wrong when Brent came toward them, his expression grave.
"What is it?" Reece demanded.
"My babysitter called. Faith has a fever. I'm sorry, Jen, but I need to go."
"Sure. Of course. We'll come with you."
"No, you guys go on. This is your last chance to see Amanda before you head out, right? She can't do breakfast tomorrow?"