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It’s loud enough that I have to lean closer to catch everything he says, and with it I get a whiff of his scent—something deliciously woodsy, warm and inviting like the enticing crook of the devil’s finger.
“Why do you care, anyway?” I ask. “You hate Mike. And you’ve got plenty of evidence that he’s a dick, so my story isn’t going to change anything.”
“Look, my relationship with Mike is...complicated.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “But I came back for the wedding because I want to start repairing my relationship with my dad.”
“Having a drink with mewon’thelp that, especially if they find out about it,” I say. “I’m surely persona non grata right now. And, if you’re looking for an apology for me screwing up your attempts to reconcile with your dad, then you canabsolutelyhave one. I’m very sorry. Truly. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess, but I was desperate.”
“I’m not looking for an apology,” he says, leaning an elbow on the bar. I want to warn him against it so he doesn’t ruin the expensive-looking suede on his open jacket, but tonight I’m not the woman who worries about sticky bars. As if to prove something to myself, I also lean an elbow on the bar. “But I did want to hear your side of the story.”
“Why? I’m no one to you.”
“Call me curious,” he replies with a shrug.
The bartender sets down four shots of potent golden liquid with a small dish of lime wedges and a shaker of salt. I hate tequila. Everybody hasthatdrink they got wasted on so badly in their youth that the smell of it turns their stomach even years later. For Drew it was rum. For me, it’s tequila. But I want to punish myself in a way...or maybe I’m pushing myself. Pushing past old barriers and ideas of who I am, pushing past my discomfort.
I lick the back of my hand and shake some salt onto the wet spot. The little crystals cling to my skin like flecks of glitter. This is a bad idea.
A drink I hate with a man I shouldn’t be drinking with in a bar I wouldn’t usually set foot in.
I nudge the salt shaker toward Sebastian and watch as he repeats the ritual. Lick, shake. Now we’re going to swallow and suck.
“Ready?” I ask him with a saucy smile. I want to feel the effects of the alcohol. I’m ready to let it loosen me up and even me out.
“You bet.”
I pick up the shot and brace myself against the wave of nausea from the smell, but none comes. Maybe it’s a sign. I wait for Sebastian to pick his glass up and clink it against mine. The second after he does, I lick the salt from my hand and bring the glass to my lips, letting the fiery liquid go down the hatch in one go. As I wince, blindly reaching for a piece of lime, my hand brushes Sebastian’s. I’m still cringing when I snag a little piece of the citrus fruit and jam it into my mouth, almost choking on the sourness causing my lips to pucker.
“Well, that’s fucking awful,” he says, coughing.
I laugh. “Again?”
We work through the steps a second time—shake, lick, swallow, suck. Cringe, cringe, cringe.
The concentration of the alcohol is already working its magic, filling me with a warm buzzing burn and shooing my inhibitions away. Sebastian signals to the bartender and orders us something to enjoy a little slower. Two beers. Something, again, I don’t usually drink.
“Are you going to tell me now?” he asks while we wait.
The music pumps through the bar and a dancefloor off to the side is heaving with people. There’s no DJ in this place, just music playing over speakers. “I found out that your brother—”
“Stepbrother,” he corrects.
“Sorry,stepbrother, was only marrying me so your dad would take him more seriously as a contender for CEO of the family company.” I shake my head. “He was crowing about it to his groomsmen.”
“You overheard him, or someone told you?” He narrows his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t believe me. Honestly, I don’t care.
“I overheard him.” I try to ignore the stab in my chest as I remember it. The wound is little more than a day old and it hurts like hell. For his faults, I did love Mike. In the early days, he treated me like a princess. At one time we were...happy. I don’t know why it changed. “And as much as it hurt to walk away, there’s no way I’m going to enter into a loveless marriage as a bargaining chip to a business deal. I deserve more than that.”
“Getting married isn’t required to take over the family business, though. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t think your fathertoldMike that. I think he just questioned his maturity, and in Mike’s mind, marriage equals maturity.” A look passes over Sebastian’s face, but in the flickering lights it’s difficult to decipher. “Anyway, I didn’t come out tonight to rehash all my bad life choices, okay? I want to drown my sorrows and forget it ever happened.”
Our fresh round of drinks appear and Sebastian waves my hand away when I try to pay, taking care of it with a tap of his credit card.
“We should have set up a tab,” I say. “I’m not going home anytime soon.”
He shoots me a look. “Let’s finish this drink and then I’ll take you somewhere more befitting a classy gal like yourself.”
“Ha!” I snort. “This is exactly where I belong tonight.”
