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Whatever.
In the kitchen I pulled open the fridge and found bottled water. But then I opened the freezer, hoping there might be vodka in there. Not my drink, but no one would notice if I just put a finger in my bottle. Nothing but frozen strawberries and a pint of fake ice cream. The low-calorie shit.
I turned around, blindly, forcing myself to breathe deeply. In and out, damn it. I could do this.
I came virtually face-to-face with Sophie’s sister. I schooled my expression. “Hey, Bella. Nice to see you.”
She had jumped a little and now she was holding her hand over her heart. “Crap, you scared me. What are you doing? Where is Sophie?”
She said it like possibly I had murdered her sister and now wanted a drink of water. “In her room. I was thirsty.”
For a long second she just stared at me. She was wearing a tank top and tiny little sleep shorts. Bella was beautiful. No denying it. Long legs. Big tits. Classic facial features. But she did nothing for me now. Not a damn thing. So I stared her down. I refused to be made uncomfortable.
Sophie wanted me there.
Finally, she looked away. “If you want a real drink I can show you the liquor cabinet.”
“Is that a trick question?” It seemed too much to expect her to be generous with me.
“What? No. But I don’t think you were looking for ice cream in the freezer.”
I shrugged. She was right about that. “Bella, you know the way to win a man over.”
That made her scoff. “Right. Sure, I do.”
For a second she looked vulnerable. Upset. But then she smiled and gestured. “This way. The booze is in the bar.”
Music to my ears. “An actual home bar?”
“Yes. My mother thinks it’s tacky. But my father wanted an English pub.”
I followed her across the room and down a dark hallway. I really should have gone upstairs and retrieved a shirt or my pants, but the call of the bottle was stronger than the need for convention. She opened a door and flicked on the light. And damn, if we weren’t in an English pub. “This is a lot of wormy chestnut.”
“What is wormy chestnut?”
“Wood.”
“Oh.” Bella made a face. “Grab a drink, whatever you want.”
Something was off here. It still felt like a setup. Eyeing the shelves I saw brands and bottles I had never seen before in my life. Expensive bottles, no doubt. I wasn’t going to reach out and inadvertently drink some thousand-dollar scotch. “What are you having?”
“A glass of wine.”
In the midst of an impressive full-length bar, there was a wine chiller. She opened it and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay. Bella seemed older, less vapid, than she had the night I met her. Tonight she wasn’t interested in having fun. She looked shrewd and tired.
“I’ll have a glass of wine, then.”
Hell, I’d already sucked down my mother’s boxed wine, so what was another glass? Besides, it seemed more polite than just plowing through her father’s expensive whiskey, because I wasn’t known for leaving it at one small drink. Plus, there was no way in hell I was going to just reach around and start helping myself. I wasn’t raised in a fucking barn.
“You don’t look like a wine drinker.”
She was right. But it still annoyed me. I didn’t like the way I was feeling. I had wanted to escape my mother’s house. Then Sophie’s room. And now I wanted to escape this fake pub that reminded me of who I was and who I wasn’t. A drunk. And not good enough for Sophie. “Then give me a whiskey. Or wine. Or nothing. It’s fine.”
“Touchy, touchy.” She expertly opened the bottle with a corkscrew. She pulled out two glasses from a cabinet. “I really wish you were wearing pants right now. I don’t know where to look.”
Ah. Maybe that’s why she was so stiff herself. I made her uncomfortable. I wasn’t all that comfortable here either. I felt exposed, in every way. “I’ll stay on this side of the bar. But didn’t you go to college?” I asked. “I thought everyone ran around in their underwear in dorms. That’s the way they make it seem in movies and TV.”
Bella gave a laugh. “I went to a boring college. No one was doing that.”
