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“A drink for every lady,” he said with a wink.
Liquid courage. Just what she needed. She took the glass from his fingers.
It was like swallowing fire.
It felt fantastic.
He whistled and held out another. “Let me see you do that again.”
Her limbs felt hot and heavy already, as if the alcohol were traveling through her veins to her fingertips. She reached out and took the second glass.
This burn was twice as nice.
Some people from the living room were whistling now. She shut her eyes and felt her body waver, as if a wind had whipped through the hallway.
When she opened them, he’d come around the table and was holding another shot in front of her. She could smell him now, liquor and smoke and male sweat. His voice turned low and taunting. “Let’s see you get that down your throat.”
A hand reached out and took it before she could. “Let’s not.”
Hunter.
She meant to turn, to confront him. Her legs had a different idea. She stumbled and the room tilted sideways. She knew she was falling, but her brain couldn’t get it together to do anything about it. She probably should have eaten dinner.
Hunter caught her. She heard the shot glass rattle on the hardwood of the foyer.
Her veins were still burning. Her knees wouldn’t lock to hold her upright.
Hunter glared over her shoulder. “What is that, tequila?”
“Dude, it’s not like I held her down—”
“Stop it,” she said, not wanting to hear any more talk of being held down. She tried to shrug out of Hunter’s hands. The music was still slamming into her body with every beat. “Lemme go. I just want—I need my keys—”
“Here.” He backed her up until she was leaning against the molding between the hallway and the living room, then let her go. He looked at the guy with the shot glasses. “Get her a cup of water or something.”
She braced her hands behind her on the wall and stared up at Hunter. She couldn’t figure out his expression, whether he was disgusted, or disappointed, or exasperated.
Maybe Quinn was right. Maybe she was going about this all wrong.
“Where’s Quinn?” she said.
“I told her to give me a second.”
Traitor.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” At least her voice wasn’t slurring yet, but everything felt warm. “Now I’m all liquored up. You didn’t even have to work for it.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why would I want you trashed?”
“You’re a guy, right? Isn’t that why you asked me here?”
He glanced away and sighed.
“See.” She reached out and poked him in the chest. Hard. “Monica told you about me. About Drew. That’s why you brought me here.”
“Damn. You’re on to me.” He was untying one of the twine bracelets from his wrist.
His words drew her up short. “Wait. What?”
