Wright with Benefits (Wright Series #8) - K.A. Linde Page 0,1

course no one was answering. It was just my day. I checked the address on the sheet again. I knew where this place was. It was only a five-minute drive downtown on a good day. Today was not a good day, but I had enough time to still make it.

“Cézanne!” She glanced over at me. “No one is answering. I’m going to head over there and find out what happened.”

“You’re a goddess, Annie. Truly.”

“I still say that I wasn’t in charge of this.”

“Well, find out who was then, ’kay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered as I headed back outside.

I braced myself against the cold and hustled back to my car. As soon as I shut myself back inside, I blasted the heat. The Spirit Ranch was a wedding venue on the north side of town that we’d gotten at an uber discount since it was the off-season. But Cézanne had somehow still made the space look gorgeous, even going as far as renting an outdoor tent, complete with heaters. But with the sun already going down, I couldn’t imagine standing out there. Maybe with enough alcohol in me.

I winced.

Right…alcohol. That thing we didn’t have.

With a groan, I peeled away from the building and headed toward downtown. The Wine Boutique was nestled in the heart of the city between an old city hall and a historic hotel, which had recently been renovated into high-end apartments. Downtown was finally—finally—beginning to blossom into the Lubbock local scene that everyone had always hoped for. It had a long way to go, but I could see where it was headed.

I parked out front, bracing myself for the cold, and rushed toward the front door. My hand settled on the gilded doorknob, and I yanked on the door. I groaned, feeling my shoulder give as I pulled too hard on a door that wouldn’t budge.

“Fuck,” I spat.

The hours on the front door said I had another fifteen minutes before they closed—because, of course, it had taken me longer to get here. I peered inside at the darkened interior. A few lights were still on, and a woman sat behind the counter, typing on the computer.

I banged on the front door. “Hello!”

The woman’s head popped up in confusion. Then she dashed across the room, unlocked the door, and threw it open. I nearly fell inside.

“Hey! Sorry about that. I didn’t expect any other customers,” the woman said. She wore a blue dress with sensible heels. Her brown hair was severely parted down the middle and pulled back into a bun. Her lips were painted a pretty pink, and her dark eyes were lightly lined.

“Not a problem.”

“I’m the owner, Sophia. How can I help you?”

“Annie,” I said, taking her outstretched hand and shaking it. “I’m actually here from the medical school. We’re hosting a retirement party for one of our distinguished faculty up at the Spirit Ranch today. We ordered a few cases of wine from here, but it was never delivered.”

I passed over the order form to Sophia, who looked even more surprised when she scanned it over.

“I have this order,” she said, “but it’s for next weekend.”

“No, it’s for today. We’re all back in rotations next weekend.”

“I don’t even have to look it up. I know that I have it for next weekend.”

Sophia immediately went to the computer. I followed her, standing before the desk. She quickly printed out a similar form and passed it to me.

I glanced down at it. It was nearly identical to the draft form I’d handed her, except that the date was filled in on the completed form and it was in fact for next weekend. What the hell?

“Oh God,” I groaned as I looked at the signature.

Who the hell put Bryan Clifford in charge of this?

Bryan was our resident fuckup. He’d only gotten through the last three years of medical school because his mother was on the board and kept bailing him out. I prayed for anyone who had him as a doctor after we finished all of this. Lord, save me from mediocre white men.

I had no idea how it had gone from my name on Cézanne’s list to Bryan ordering the wine and putting the wrong date on it.

“You’re right. It is for next weekend.”

“I’m really sorry,” Sophia said.

“Do you have the wine in stock?”

“Sure, I have it, but my drivers are already gone for the day. I don’t even have a van here tonight to deliver it myself.”

My heart sank. “Can’t you call someone?” I asked, teetering toward desperate.