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Abigail nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun toward the porch railing. Standing in the moonlight, clad in a down-filled jacket, was Leif. He held a liquor bottle and two glasses.
"You scared me to death."
His teeth flashed in the moonlight. "You look alive to me."
"What are you doing here?"
"Checking on you."
"Checking on me?" She stiffened, grappling with the idea that Leif cared enough to check on her.
“…and bringing you a drink."
“A drink?"
He climbed the steps, his shoes quiet on the slats as he moved toward her. "You expected something more herbal from me? I've heard the rumors, but I don't smoke weed. I do, however, like a good Scotch."
His eyes were sparkling with warmth. He wagged the bottle.
"I could use a drink." She sat on the swing and glanced at the spot beside her. If he were anyone else, she would have expected him to sit in the rocker a few feet away, but she wanted to feel him beside her.
Yeah. She'd gone nuts.
Leif settled in next to her, twisted the lid off the bottle, and poured two generous fingers of what looked to be Balvenie. He'd brought the good stuff. Handing her one, he clinked his glass to hers.
"I'd make a toast but this isn't about futures or well wishes. You just need a drink, hon."
"No kidding.” She didn't bothering sipping. Tonight called for a belt.
"Whoa. Slow down there, soldier." Leif leaned back, his shoulder brushing hers.
Abigail did as he bid and took a demure sip. "Why?"
“Because good scotch should be sipped.”
“No. Why are you being nice to me? You don't know me."
He tilted his head. The move made him cuter. "Best way to get to know someone is over a good Scotch."
"But why would- "
He pressed his finger against her lips. "Shh... sometimes it's enough to be. Relax."
It was the second time he'd said that to her, and she let the words sink in. She leaned against the swing, folding in on herself like a bouncy castle deflating after a kiddie birthday party. Sweet comfort. Leif kicked the swing into motion. The clunk of the bottle hitting the porch was the last sound she heard before the night tucked them into contemplation.
After several minutes, Abigail released a sigh.
''Ah, there you go. A good drink cures a lot of things."
"Tonight sucked."
"I know. Feels like getting sideswiped," he said, his voice soft.
"Yeah, sideswiped," she breathed, looking into the inky darkness as if it could provide a solution to Cal showing up... a solution to her wanting to rest her head on Leif's shoulder. "You know, you're a decent guy for a lothario."
"Lothario?"
"I'm sorry. That's not fair. Just because women hurl themselves at you.”
