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Clinking their glasses together, Reagan laughed. “Is that all? I’m sorry to tell you I was already very happy to do that.”
Libby was still smiling as she sipped her drink. The flavor was at once sweet and spicy. Her eyes slipped closed as she tasted rose blooms and clementines. The only thing she didn’t taste was the alcohol until it warmed her belly.
When she opened her eyes, Reagan was staring at her expectantly.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, willing her eyes not to get watery.
“I know, right? Can you believe she refuses to sell it?
Barter only, and she only makes one barrel every other year.”
“It’s a crime not to share this,” Libby decided as she took a smaller sip to make it last. On the second tasting, she detected vanilla and cardamom. It was impossibly complex but not overwhelming.
“That’s what I tell her! Apparently her grandpa has been working on it for years. The bourbon is like a family member.”
“I’ll give her whatever she wants for the next bottle. Does she need matchmaking services?” Libby asked, her lips and tongue tingling from the moderate spice.
“Her husband would probably say no,” Reagan joked.
“I’m so glad you liked it. I told you I didn’t gamble. There was no doubt in my mind this was a sure thing.”
Libby o ered a lopsided grin. “I don’t think any girl wants to be called a sure thing.”
Reagan’s response was to clink glasses once more. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The silence between them grew heavy like an unexpected pressure system sucked the air out of the room and made it hard to breathe. With her eyes fixed on hers, Reagan took another sip of her drink.
Libby watched as her lips parted and her tongue peeked out just enough to make her pulse jump. In that moment,
she realized it had been an awfully long time since she’d been kissed.
Buzzing with the alcohol that warmed her skin and dulled her brain, Libby pressed further. “Well, you won the bet.
What’s your prize? And it can’t be matchmaking services when this is over.”
Reagan cocked her head to one side. “Oh, no? Are you the jealous type?” She chuckled. “I can’t believe I learned that before I learned your birthday.”
Libby wanted to stay on topic, to find out what she’d bargained away, but birthday facts were long overdue.
“January seventh, if you must know,” she replied before popping a grape in her mouth to appear more relaxed than she felt.
“A Capricorn,” she noted with approval. “No wonder we make such a great match. Our stars are aligned all over the place.”
“I did such a great job vetting you, I only know how old you are and not your birthday,” Libby countered, unsure how else to respond.
“I’m almost a Christmas Eve baby. December twenty-first,” she admitted before taking another agonizingly slow sip of her drink. It was more mesmerizing than staring into a cartoon villain’s twirling umbrella.
“A Sagittarius,” she nodded because it made sense. “I can see that. Alright, with that out of the way, what’s losing going to cost me?” The not knowing was starting to eat away at her.
“I think I’m going to hang on to my win. Just for a little bit,” Reagan replied before helping herself to a slice of manchego cheese. “Are you going to give me the grand tour?”
Reigning in her desire to continue pressing Reagan, Libby popped another grape in her mouth and obliged.
“This is a two-story condo? Who knew there was such a thing?” Reagan stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the loft after having seen the main floor guest bedroom and den.
“How much space does one person need?”
Libby couldn’t disagree. “When I bought it, I was sure it wouldn’t be single occupancy.”
