Lila Campbell really liked the small, underground cellar vibe of the restaurant. She’d gotten word that the Cuban restaurant was one of Miami’s best-kept secrets, and the somewhat hard-to-find restaurant hadn’t disappointed. Her dinner had been delicious, and the follow-up cocktail was divine. She was now working on a dessert of in-house-made vanilla bean ice cream drizzled with a thick spiced rum sauce that was so decadent, she’d have to spend extra time at the gym working it off.
Holding her phone above her, she took a picture of herself bringing a spoonful to her mouth. She checked it—definitely cute—and it was good to post. Some people hated selfies, thought they were shallow, but Lila didn’t care. She thought back to when she was younger. Maybe she would have been one of those women who judged others like that, but she knew it would have been her own insecurities at play. Taking a picture that she felt was good enough to post was hard for her, but it was getting easier. Sure, she still saw the nasty comments some trolls left on her posts, but she just had to shrug and move on.
“I gotta ask you.” The pretty bartender, Amanda, leaned closer. “Are you that girl from Instagram?”
“Which one?” she asked. “There are a few girls on Instagram.”
“Lila, is it?”
“Well, my name is Lila.”
“I knew it.” Amanda nodded at her drink. “That one’s on the house. Yours is one of my favorite accounts.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Come here,” she crooked her finger at her, and when she leaned in, Lila snapped a picture of both of them. “I’ll post that one later. Thanks for everything.”
Arlo’s would get a stellar review on her blog, and she knew that her word would ensure they had month-long waiting lists for at least a year. It had happened before, and she took a moment to revel in the online power she had. The staff was friendly, and the drinks and food were delicious. As she sipped her rum and Coke, she again hummed appreciatively at the flavor of—she checked the label on the bottle behind the bar—Rexford Rum, which was not cheap, but a local favorite, the bartender had told her.
Tilting her head to the side, she thought something about the name was familiar. And then she remembered. She’d managed to secure an invitation to their upcoming party next Saturday when their marketing manager had reached out to her about attending in exchange for a few posts. The buzz was that it would be attended by athletes and celebrities. The address she’d been given was for the rooftop of a swanky beachside hotel, and it promised to be a good time. She was looking forward to the party but being seen there would also boost her own reputation. Which would help her gain more negotiating clout for when she met with the GO! Channel.
She’d been in talks with the network for months, to take her well-known online persona and translate it to television. She could imagine it now, traveling around the world, the steady paycheck that would give her more stability, and let her put down some roots in Los Angeles. She never thought she wanted to settle in one place, but as she got older, she saw the value in having a home to call her own.
As she brought her spoon to her lips again, she froze, feeling someone come up behind her. Lila straightened her spine, turning on her best thousand-yard stare, which she used whenever men approached her when she traveled alone. She was ready for every cheesy pickup line. She’d heard them all. With her cocktail in hand, Lila turned, took a sip, hoping to look cool and indifferent, but instead her eyes roamed up the man’s body to his face, and she gulped down her drink in one mouthful. He put his hand on the back of the empty stool beside her. She watched, transfixed by his long, strong fingers as they flexed on the wooden frame of the back. “Is anybody sitting here?”
She shook her head, unable to speak. It had been a long, long time since a man’s looks—his presence—had left her so completely dumbfounded.
“Good,” he said with a smile.
“Your usual, sir?” the bartender asked him.
“Please,” he answered, without taking his dark brown eyes from her. “And get another one for the lady.”
Usually, the presumption of a man buying her a drink would have driven Lila insane. She hated overbearing men, and normally, she would have asked him to leave, but there was something about the man next to her that intrigued her. Whether it was his extreme confidence, his impeccable looks, or the scent of his cologne, she was rooted in place. And it had been so, so long since she’d been in the company of a gorgeous man. Amanda looked at her in confirmation and she nodded, willing to get to know the stranger.
He took the seat next to her, and in a short time, the bartender put a tumbler with a couple of fingers of dark liquor next to her new drink.
He picked up his glass with long, confident fingers and used it to gesture to her own glass. “What did I just order for you?”
“Cuba Libre.”
He drank from his glass and nodded. “Good drink.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’m told it’s Rexford Rum, based here in Miami. I have to say, it’s pretty good.”
“Just pretty good?” He smiled. “I’ve heard it’s the best.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” she teased, sipping from her glass, not taking her eyes from his as he did the same. She felt a spark that sizzled between them and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lila.”
“Lila,” he repeated, letting the last syllable roll off his tongue. She wanted to keep hearing him say her name. “That’s a pretty
