With a mouth full of cheese, the medium-built stranger with neatly trimmed, slicked jet black hair, and a weekend’s worth of stubble on his face, smiled and choked out, “I’m Adam Winter.”
“Hi, I’m Tracie Watson,” she said, extending her hand forward, grabbing Adam’s just as he finished wiping it on a cocktail napkin. “Are you a friend of Tony’s from work?”
“Who’s Tony?”
“My husband.”
“Oh, the guy whose birthday it is. Actually, I’m here with my buddy, Rob. I think he works with your husband.”
“How did you know that it was Tony’s birthday?” Tracie asked.
“If it weren’t for all of those critical thinking skills I learned in law school, I would have never deduced from the numerous ‘Happy 30th’ banners draped around this place that it was someone’s birthday,” Adam smirked.
“You don’t look like a lawyer.”
“Thanks.”
“All the lawyers in this neighborhood wear khakis and Polo shirts when they try to look casual and hip,” Tracie looked Adam over. “You’re over-the-edge hip in this suburb.”
“I guess it doesn’t take much to be hip around here.”
Tracie laughed. “What’s cute, nice guy like you doing at a party like this?” she asked.
“I came for the spinach dip. And Rob sort of sold this party a bit differently.” Adam said.
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