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She nodded, eager. “Yes. Yes, I still want you to do it. Absolutely.” She paused, then looked up at him through her thick eyelashes. “Just promise me one thing—don’t warn me before you do it.”
If that wasn’t the oddest request . . .
“Promise me.”
“But won’t that be worse?”
“Nope. Trust me on this. It’s like a shot. The worst part is knowing it’s coming, watching the needle—”
“Charlotte, this is nothing like a shot. It’s permanent, and it will change everything. Besides, you’ll know it’s coming at some point—”
“I don’t care. That’s my only request.”
He cocked his head to the side.
“Well, you know,” she amended. “Aside from the whole ‘turning’ thing itself.”
“Here you go, Death in the Afternoon number two. Also on the house. Although I’m not sure how they plan to make any money—”
“Thank you.” Torr handed her another tip without looking away from Charlotte.
“Come with me,” he said. He stood, taking his glass with him, and Charlotte grabbed her own drink and followed him from the vault.
“Are we—”
“No, not now,” he said as they walked toward the bar. “But if you really don’t want to know, I’m not sure it’s to your benefit to keep asking.”
He reached down and grabbed her hand as they approached the bar.
“Then what are you—”
“I just wanted to see you in all your glory.” He glanced down. “It’s been far too long.”
“It’s been a few days.” She laughed, placing her drink on the bar.
“Like I said, far too long.”
“What does a guy need to do for service around here,” he called, forcing Lawrence to turn toward them.
His brother looked positively giddy. Torr had expected the reaction The Vault seemed to be getting. The laid-back vibe combined with the joy that came from its two owners had everyone abuzz.
Good for him.
“We don’t serve Highlanders here—”
“But—” Charlotte began. Torr wrapped his arm around her waist. He couldn’t resist touching her any longer. She shivered beneath his hand. “—but I thought you were a Highlander,” she said to his brother.
As he poured another whiskey, Lawrence corrected her.
“Borderer . . . big difference.”
He slid the refill toward Torr. “Tell me. What do you think?”
Torr deliberately misunderstood. “I think this minx on my arm has made me the happiest Scotsman, Highlander, Lowlander, borderer, or whatever you’d like to call me, in the world.”
Lawrence grinned at Charlotte. “How was your drink?”
She raised it into the air. “Number two. It was perfect.”
