Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series by Ainsley Claire (easy readers .txt) 📗

a one-night stand?” Claire’s eyes grow big, and a few men at the bar glance over.

I chuckle. “I meant for work. But as far as that’s concerned, as soon as the guy asks what I do and I tell him—even the light version—he either has to mansplain how he’s so much more successful than I am or he makes a polite excuse to run away. Usually, it’s the latter.”

“Men are idiots,” Claire says.

“I think Caroline snagged the last good one,” I quip.

Caroline was just married a year ago to her long-time love, Mason Sullivan. They’re the power couple these days in San Francisco. Mason and his company, SHN, were the initial investors in my company, and I owe all my success to them. They gave me a great runway and provided me with help doing all the things that typically distract a startup, so my development team and I could concentrate on what we do best.

Ryder Brady sits down next to me. She’s a vivacious blonde with all the right curves, and it actually makes me feel better knowing it isn’t just me. She’s beautiful, funny, and doesn’t need a man to take care of her. “I’m not ready to give up yet,” she says. Ryder is the founder of Solar Pavilion, which develops self-sustaining, solar power stations for rural and off-the-grid communities, particularly in third-world countries and remote worksites.

“No way,” Elena adds. Elena Tuskin is a tall, beautiful brunette with big brown eyes that are golden in the sunlight. “We’re too awesome to just give up.”

“You know,” Emerson says. “When I was single, Caroline and some of our friends used to have fake jobs that made us less intimidating when we were out.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asks.

“We had what we called chick jobs.” She smiles. “I would tell guys I worked in human resources and operations.”

“I would tell them I was a makeup artist,” Caroline offers. “My childhood best friend, who’s a pediatrician, would tell guys she was a nurse.”

I put my glass down and grin. “I get it. Rather than say I’m CEO of a multinational, trillion-dollar company, I could tell them I’m working on a new app.”

“Yessss!” Caroline says.

“Rather than saying I’m developing the software that banks use to move money around behind the scenes, I could say I’m a bank teller,” Elena says.

Emerson is nodding.

But Ryder shakes her head. “Lying to start a relationship seems a little disingenuous.”

“I suppose it is, but if you’re just looking for fun, what’s the harm?” Caroline says. “All of those jobs are amazing. They just aren’t as threatening to a man’s delicate ego.”

Ryder grins. “Fine. I’ll be a science teacher focused on climate change.”

“Good that you’re true to course,” Caroline says.

We spend the rest of the night plotting our quest to become guy magnets, and I wonder how that ploy would have gone with the guy I ran into on my way into the bar tonight. When I sigh, someone hands me a shot. We drink more than we probably should, but we have fun. I’m just grateful we didn’t spend the night dissecting what my brain has been wrestling with since Viviana’s arrest.

At the end of the evening, as I walk out with Claire, she puts her arm around me. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” I give her a side hug. “I’m really grateful that we’re friends.”

“I am, too.” She looks at the line of vehicles and bodyguards ready to whisk us home. “Viv did a number on all of us. But together we’ll get through.”

“I agree.”

Peter stands beside my vehicle, and I salute him as I climb into the backseat for the drive to my home in the Marina.

When I arrive, I bypass additional alcohol and go right for graham crackers with a swipe of Nutella and marshmallow fluff. This snack takes me back to my days of being a Girl Scout and my favorite s’mores. Chocolate should definitely be its own food group. I look out at the marina, where people are still celebrating and enjoying their night.

I need a bath to relax.

I run through my tried-and-true preparations and have it ready in no time. As the bubbles cover me in a warm blanket, I think once again about the man who offered to buy me a drink earlier tonight. We had less than a minute of flirting, but nothing more, and no way to follow up.

What might an app do for people interested in flirting?

No fake jobs required.

No histories or education exchanged.

Just flirting over drinks and sharing a mutual attraction.

I don’t think there’s anything like that out there. Too bad. It would be perfect.

Something woke me at twelve forty-four this morning, and I can’t go back to sleep. My mind won’t stop circling the drain of my life. It’s like a pinball machine that ricochets between a Viviana Prentis bumper, a Diamond Analytics bumper, and the sharp pain of Justin and why he broke up with me.

I stare at the ceiling. The shadow from the water’s reflection is like a shiny line that zig-zags above the blackout curtains.

I don’t want to read. Nothing interests me right now.

I’m cold. I reach for the quilt my grandmother crocheted and curl up in a fetal position.

Now I’m hot.

Wait. What was that noise?

I push the quilt aside, and the cold air hits me. It’s too early.

I pull out an oversized, thick, washed-wool sweater and put it on. It’s in terrible shape, with snags and holes in the elbows, but it’s warm, and it doesn’t matter since no one will see me in it. I head to the kitchen and start a pot of coffee.

Justin really upsets me. I never said I wouldn’t move to Austin.

Okay, I never offered to either. But he didn’t even ask.