I reached slowly forward, my hand bumping into the plastic whiskey tumbler. I grabbed it and drained it in a single go—the burn a blessed distraction from the emotions writhing in me.
I wondered what Quinn thought. If she was confused or worried about the change in my attitude.
Her light voice drew my attention, chasing away some of the dark, angry emotions roiling in my soul. “I can’t believe youspiked the drinks.” If she sensed the shift in me, she didn’t let on. For that, I was glad.
I nodded. “That was nothin’. I got a whole long list of dumb shit I did growin’ up.”
Her laughter was warm. “How old are you?” she asked after a moment.
“Here you go, sir,” The bartender cut in. I heard the clink of the glass against the countertop.
I nodded. “Thank you. And another whiskey on the rocks, please.” I turned my unseeing gaze back on Quinn, wondering more and more what she looked like? Was she a brunette? A blonde? Tall or short? Was she covered in tattoos? I doubted that. She seemed too innocent. But it wouldn’t be the first time I’d been wrong about someone.
“I turn thirty-three in November,” I replied to her.
“No way!” Her words shook with disbelief. “You don’t look that old at all!”
I chuckled. “I feel that old. Older even.” A career as a bull rider wasn’t an easy one. I had the scars to prove it. Sometimes just getting out of bed felt like an insurmountable feat. I felt around for one of my shot glasses and threw it back easily enough. “How old are you?” I asked past the familiar burn.
A pause, and then nervously, “Not gonna lie, I’m kinda scared to tell you now.”
Unease stirred within me once more. “You’re over twenty-one, right? Or did you just give her a really good fake I.D?”
She laughed, the sound light and lyrical and enchanting. God, it did something to me. I hoped like I hell I wasn’t flirting with some teenager.
“No. I just turned twenty-three in March.”
I blew out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. “Thank fuck.”
Another laugh, though there was a nervous edge to it. “It’s not a problem for you?”
I shrugged, and with a confidence I hadn’t felt a few moments ago—whiskey must be kicking in—I rested a hand on her thigh. “As long as you’re okay sittin’ here with my old ass, I’m fine with it. And…I don’t know, you hold yourself together like you’re older. I mean you’re innocent as fuck, but I have a feelin’ you got some fire in you.”
The warm feel of her hand on mine sent a rush through me. “Good,” she replied, low and sultry.
Yeah, she may seem all innocent, but there was something there. A flicker of desire just waiting to turn into a living, breathing inferno. And I didn’t mind being the one to stoke the flames.
“I have an idea,” Quinn said, an excited edge to her voice.
“Am I gonna like this?”
“I mean, it involves getting to know me and drinking, so you tell me?”
I shrugged, my lips curving upward. “Sounds good to me.”
Her laughter warmed me from the inside out, more thoroughly than the liquor in my bloodstream. “It’s a game. Kinda like truth or dare, but instead of a dare, you drink.”
“Sounds easy enough…but it ain’t fair that I’m over here drinkin’ straight alcohol and your drinkin’ some weak ass bullshit.”
“Fair enough,” she laughed. “But no shots. I can’t shoot liquor to save my life.”
I bet a bit of time with me and we could fix that. “Fine, how about another mudslide?”
“Deal.”
I didn’t even have to call the bartender over. As she delivered my whiskey on the rocks, I ordered another mudslide for Quinn.
“Alright, ladies first,” I said, situating myself to face Quinn’s direction more fully.
