She bites down on her lips, like she’s holding back a smile, her eyes shining with amusement. There’s a smile on my face as well.
It’s easy talking to her.
“A double G&T,” she says, rubbing the small of her back. “Hendricks, if they’ve got it.”
“A double? We can go straight for the tequila shots if you prefer.”
“Don’t be a bad influence.”
“Guilty as charged.” I wink at her and walk toward the bar.
I order her G&T and a beer for myself. I wasn’t much of a beer drinker until I got to Darkwater Hollow, but if I went around ordering Macallan 15—my go-to in New York—it might raise some eyebrows. Most places in this area don’t even carry it, but The Junction does. I stare at it longingly while I wait for Denny to make the cocktail.
When I bring our drinks back to the table, Blake reaches inside her purse. “How much do I owe you?”
I slide the G&T over to her. “Courtship ritual, remember? They’re on me.”
“Rowan, you can’t just keep paying for everything.”
Oh baby, you have no idea.
“I’m starting to feel insulted you think I’m a guy who doesn’t pay on a date. Plus, didn’t you just lose your job or something?”
She huffs. “Thanks for rubbing it in. I didn’t lose it. I’m just underemployed, okay? And since when is this a date?”
I take the seat across from her. “Might as well be one. This can be us testing the waters.”
Her eyes widen as she grasps my meaning. “I-I guess you’re right,” she says, stumbling over her words. She glances around the bar like she’s suddenly self-conscious about our potential audience.
Funny how she can be so feisty, but as soon as she thinks it looks like we’re on a date, she gets all shy.
“No one’s paying attention to us,” she says, sounding relieved.
“Maybe we should have gone to a busier place,” I tease. “But first, I have to make sure you can sell it.”
She sucks on her straw and rubs her back. “Sell what exactly?”
“That you’re in love with me.“
Blake starts coughing.
I slide along the bench, moving closer to her, and pat her on the back.
She sucks in a harsh breath, wincing. “Ouch.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I didn’t pat her that hard.
She wiggles her upper body like she’s trying to stretch it out. “I think I pulled a muscle in my back earlier today when I was moving my things to your place.”
“Why didn’t you wait for me to help you?”
She stretches again, and her face contorts with pain. “I was just angry with Brett and wasn't careful while lifting my suitcase up the steps. It’s fine.”
It’s not fine.
This woman’s insistence on not asking for help is going to get her killed one day.
I wrap my palms around her narrow waist and carefully turn her so her back is angled toward me. “Let me see.”
