“Everly’s roommate, Chloe, I presume?” he asks, reaching out and shaking her hand.

“Sawyer, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Chloe is positively beaming. “I’m a fan of anyone who can give this one”—she nudges me in the ribs—“a run for her money.”

Sawyer rubs his chin in a play of delight. “Oh, I bet you have stories. We should have lunch sometime.”

“Ha, ha, you two. Ha, ha. You can exchange numbers later. We need to focus right now.”

“Yeah, what have you done to my assistant?” Sawyer frowns, the corners of his eyes creasing as he takes in Sandra’s appearance. “What happened to her pants?”

“She looks hot, right? You can admit it, I won’t be jealous. Damn, her legs in that skirt. I wish my legs were that long.” I say wistfully.

“Are we calling that a skirt? It looks like a headband.”

“Don’t be old, it’s a skirt,” I assure him. “Gabe liked it,” I add.

“He definitely liked it,” Chloe agrees while I nod smugly.

“But now that meddling tramp is horning in on all my hard work,” I say, waving at the unknown blonde who joined Gabe and Sandra. And then Chloe and I groan in unison. Because Sandra has just given up and left Gabe and the new blonde. She’s wandered over by the balcony, looking miserable.

“Go keep her company while I strategize,” I tell Chloe, and now Sawyer is the one groaning.

We circulate, everyone wanting to stop Sawyer for a quick hello. Chloe and Sandra disappear into one of the game rooms set up on the other side of the rotunda separating the party space, and Gabe watches her go. He detaches himself from the unknown blonde, but he doesn’t follow Sandra.

“Getting other people laid is hard,” I complain to Sawyer the second we’re alone. He grabs a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and presses it into my hands.

“Maybe you shouldn’t interfere,” he suggests.

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s going to work.” I take a sip and tap my fingers against the glass. “Do you have any ideas?” I look up hopefully.

“Hmm.” He tugs at his ear, appearing deep in thought, then he looks at me and deadpans, “No.”

“Well, you should.”

“I should?”

“Yeah, you were plenty creative in bulldozing me.”

“I like to think of it as wooing.”

“Well, it was effective. So where are your ideas now? When I need them?”

“I’m not sure if I’m comfortable being involved in your plans to get my assistant laid.”

“People getting laid are fifteen percent more productive than those who are not.”

He stares at me for a second. “You just made that up.”

I nod. “It sounded pretty good though, didn’t it? I thought it sounded pretty good.”

“Well, you’re getting laid plenty, Boots, so I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Damn. He really outmaneuvered me on that one.

“Walk with me,” I tell him, sliding an arm behind his back. “Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?”

“You didn’t spell it out, but I might have gotten the hint earlier.”

“Super hot,” I assure him, patting his back with my hand as we walk. Then I toss in a little, “Rawr,” which might have been overdoing it because Sawyer belts out a huge laugh.

“Everly, you’re shameless. And really, really transparent.”

“Is it so wrong to want to help?” I ask. “Sometimes people just need a little push. Or, you know, a really hard shove. Or possibly to be accidentally locked in a closet together.” I glance around the room, wondering if I could pull that off tonight, but quickly decide I don’t know the layout well enough.