Page 23 of Lucky Haven

He huffs an audible exhale as he works on my other sandal. This time, his trailing fingers slide up my calf instead of down onto my foot, and he squeezes me right below the knee before he pushes himself to stand and kisses my forehead. “My pleasure. Now go to bed.”

I reach for his shirt, curling my fist into the fabric. “Wait…”

He braces his hand against the door, right beside my head. “Was this your first time getting drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You’re not sober.” With his free hand, he detaches my fingers from his shirt, but he holds on to them, his touch warm. Nice. Strong.

“I’ve had alcohol before!”

“This much?”

I squint at him. “No?”

He pushes off the door and slides me smoothly under his arm, like a dance move, like he’s spinning a partner. And it’s me, I’m his dance partner. Which would be nice, I think, as the room twirls around me.

“Whoa there,” he murmurs as I slide sideways.

I stare up at him. “Do you line dance?”

He laughs, low and deep in his chest. “Sure.”

“You wouldn’t dance with me, though.”

“You don’t want that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m all wrong for you.”

We’re in the kitchen now.

He fills a glass with water, then holds it up in front of me. “Drink this.”

I reach for it, bumping my fingers against his. Making it spill a bit. “Oops.”

“You’re getting drunker by the second.”

“You’re getting more sober by the second.”

“One of us has to be responsible here.”

“One of us has to be responsible here,” I parrot back. “But sure, you’re all wrong for me.”

“You’re lippy when you’re drunk, eh?” He grins at me and presses the glass into my hands, wrapping both of them around it. “Drink.”

I drink.

When I finish, he takes the empty glass and sets it in the sink, then he lightly runs his thumb along the edge of my mouth.

Reflexively, I lick my lips, catching the water droplets let there—and grazing his skin.

He exhales roughly, his gaze going dark.

I do it again.

I lick Cash’s thumb.