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The bar sings out in unison, “Aye, Billie! Oy, oy, oy!”
He turns toward me with a pleased smile. The king of his own trash heap.
“Charming,” I deadpan. “You should have a bottle of whiskey that’s mine. Put the corking fee on this.” I slide my black Amex across the bar. He takes it, flipping it over like he’s never seen one before.
“What’s a corking fee?”
Fucking hell.
“It’s a fee you, as a business owner, should charge your patrons for bringing their own liquor into your establishment. Otherwise you’re allowing said patrons to drink on your premises for free. That’s not a wise business choice.”
Winter rolls her eyes next to me. “Did you seriously send your own booze?”
“Booze? No. I sent thirty-year-old Macallan whiskey forusto drink. Pipe down, you’ll like it.” I wave her off.
I’m rewarded with another eye roll that oddly makes me want to pull Winter back to our suite for a quick scolding and an even quicker fuck.
“That’s okay,” Billie waves his hand. “I’ll just take yourcorking feeout of the thousand you paid me to clean my bar. It didn’t cost that much to wipe the bathrooms down.”
Mental note: Next time Winter drags you to a dive bar and you want to ensure its cleanliness, send a service, not money.
Wait. What the hell am I talking about next time? There won’t be a damn next time.
“Very well.” A weak smile plays on my lips.
“Can we start out with some food, Billie?” Winter asks. “I’m starving.”
“Whatever you’d like, beautiful. Menus on the wall behind me.”
“We’ll have…” She scans the wall behind Billie with excitement. “An order of chili-cheese fries, fried pickles, and two waters.”
“You got it,” Billie says, bending to grab something from under the counter. He then slides our Macallan bottle across the bar with two rocks glasses. “Ice?”
I shake my head no and grab the bottle, while Winter grabs the glasses. She walks deeper into the bar to find a place for us to sit. I place my hand on her back, mostly to let every fucker in this bar know she’s mine. But also because Winter’s back in this dress is absolutely sinful.
Did I just fucking think she’s mine?!
“Here,” she says, pointing at a booth in the corner. She walks over and slides into one side while I slide into the other.
Everything feels sticky.
I open our bottle of Macallan, inhaling the first earthy bite wafting from the mouth of the bottle. “I’m not one of those assholes who orders his date’s meal, but this isn’t just whiskey.Thisis liquid gold.” I pour her two fingers and slide the glass in front of her. “Do you like whiskey?”
She nods. “My dad didn’t drink much, but when he did, it was whiskey. To this day, the smell reminds me of him. I’m not extremely familiar with the taste, but if you love it, I’ll drink it.Ifyou eat the food I ordered…”
“I’m not eating that.” I shake my head.
But I will eat your pussy underneath this table.
“You want me to enjoy this whiskey with you? Then you’ll eat the fried foods. Tit for tat, Fox.” Her sexy smile would entice a man with no dick to jerk off.
“Fine. You win. Something that has been happening a little too frequently lately.” I hold my glass up and she does the same. “Here’s to negotiating myself into cardiac arrest.”
She laughs. “Here’s to loosening up and not being such a tight-ass.”
We clink our glasses slowly, keeping our eyes fastened on each other, then bring the rims of our glasses to our lips and sip the smoky, briny liquor.
“Wow,” she says, her cheeks turning pink from the heat of the whiskey. “That is really good.”
