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"I don't think so." I laugh. "There's not much to tell."
It’s true. I’m a college student with no clue how to make my life matter. I love pizza and pasta and all the carbs. Netflix and Chill is pretty much my entire personality. What about me could possibly interest a worldly, sexy, wealthy guy like Remington Boudreaux?
"I'm sure that's not true.” His hand falls away from my face. I’ve been so captivated by him that I forgot he was holding me hostage with his gentle touch, but I immediately miss it. “I'm intrigued already."
Something about the way he watches me as if there’s nothing else in the world to see implies that he is telling the truth. And something about that is exhilarating. "Alright.” I agree, seeing how I can use this opportunity to my advantage. “If you want to know more about me, let's play a game. You ask me a question, I'll answer. If you think I'm lying, call me on it. If you're right, I'll drink. If you're wrong, you drink."
He considers it a moment and then leans into me just enough so that his scent surrounds me. A hunger that has nothing to do with food stabs me in the gut. "And how will I know you're telling the truth?"
I don’t so much as blink. "I suppose you'll just have to trust me."
"Alright, Claire.” He smirks. “Challenge accepted. Let's go fill your drink before we get down to business."
We walk side by side back into the bar, where the girl behind it looks surprised to see him. "Mr. Boudreaux." The wings of her eyeliner are perfect, and the long eyelashes she bats at him can’t possibly be real. She’s gorgeous.
"Jacqueline." Remy smiles at her. "How are you?"
"Bien. Good." She clears her throat, eyes falling on me. "Just the usual?"
"Actually, no. I'll take a whiskey and cola, and a bottle to go. And if you could keep the soda coming, I have a feeling my friend here will be drinking a lot."
Wild heat spills over me at all the implications in that one sentence. Jacqueline nods and turns to set about fixing my drink.
I’m wondering just how well he knows the busty brunette behind the bar when he catches me studying his face. "What?"
"Nothing." I shake my head. "Do you really think we'll be needing the whole bottle?"
"Well, that depends." Remy grins. "How well can you hold your liquor?"
I laugh nervously, and he doesn't press me for anything further. "We're going to take a seat somewhere a little quieter. Was it too warm outside?"
"No…" I say slowly, glancing at the door behind us. It was perfect, actually. "But I still don't think we're allowed to be out there."
"I'm allowed to do whatever I want." Remy winks. Jacqueline turns back toward us and sets a drink down on the bar with one hand, and a nearly full liquor bottle with the other.
"American whiskey?" She teases. “I thought you disliked everything American.” Her eyes sparkle almost as much as the glitter on her eyelids as she looks Remy over. I don't fail to notice how she leans onto the bar in an attempt to offer him a view of her cleavage. But Remy isn't interested, and that fact becomes obvious when he hands me my drink and takes the bottle.
"Thank you, Jacqueline."
He turns away too soon to see her disappointment, but I don't. Hell, I can feel her disappointment in the air. I mutter a ‘thank you’ and follow Remy back to the door we weren't supposed to go through and onto the roof I’m pretty sure we weren't supposed to be on.
The rooftop isn't lavishly decorated, but there is a cozy seating area with some wicker furniture and a fire pit in the center of the terrace. Remy sets the bottle of whiskey on the table as he fiddles with the valve on the propane tank. When the fire blooms to life, he turns around to find me still standing, idly rubbing my arm.
"Cold?"
"No." I sigh, breathing in the night air. "Actually, it feels amazing up here."
A gentle breeze rolls off the ocean in the distance, and though it isn't much, it’s perfect.
"Good." Remy sits down, letting me decide whether I’ll share the couch with him or take one of the chairs opposite him. To his surprise, I choose to share the couch, though I keep a distance between us that is more than I want it to be. "First question, Claire. It's a bit intense. Are you ready?"
I squirm the slightest bit as I adjust myself on the couch, tugging at my skirt to be sure it isn’t riding up my thighs. "Okay." I nod, my head spinning with all the things I think he’ll choose to ask. "Hit me."
"Alright, Claire.” He lets go of a breath like the question he’s about to ask me is a doozy. “Is that actually your name?"
I watch him for a moment, trying to decide whether he’s serious. And then I laugh. It’s a surprised sound, and even though he asked the question, Remy can’t help laughing too. "Of course, it is.” I tell him. “I mean, what else would it be?"
He shrugs easily. "Clarice, maybe? Or Clarabelle if you're from the South."
