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“It should be an easy win for you, right?” I add, goading him.
“It should be,” he agrees.
“So? Are we on?”
He brushes a hand through the air. “Hold on, you haven’t even told me what we’re competing for.”
I shrug. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know. That’s your job to decide. It’s your competition, after all.”
“Ultimate bragging rights aren’t enough?” I ask.
“Not if I’m going to have to take care of your drunk ass tonight, they’re not.”
“Fine. You make a good point. How about the winner can claim a favour from the loser at any time? I’m sure I could find some use of that someday.”
He rolls that over in his mind for a few silent beats before those soft brown eyes sharpen. “Deal.”
He extends his hand over the table. I shake it eagerly, and fifteen minutes later, two plates stacked high with hot wings are set on the table, along with two more tankards of beer.
Cooper stares down at his wings excitedly and holds his glass in a firm grip. I do the same before saying, “On three.”
He nods. “One.”
My knee bounces. “Two.”
We both lift our mugs in the air and press them against our lips. “Three!”
A few onlookers glance curiously at us as we shout, but we go unnoticed by others. If anyone else chose to stare, I don’t pay them attention. They all fade to the background as we tip our glasses back and drink.
Cooper’s throat bobs with each swallow, those pouty lips curling at the edges. I fight off a giggle at how silly I must look gulping down this giant mug of beer while he manages to make it look like one of the most attractive things a man can do.
As my belly fills, I soak up this moment, even as he finishes his beer off first and sets the mug down with a smug smile, waiting while I finish mine.
“Off to a slow start,” he pokes at me.
With a final, long pull, I set the glass down on the table with a bit of force and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
I give him a toothy grin. “Slow and steady wins the race, old man.”
“Call me old again, Adalyn,” he rumbles. I freeze at the drop in his tone before belting out an awkward laugh.
“Or what?”
His expression shutters before he’s reaching across the table and pinching one of my chicken wings between his fingers. The next thing I know, he’s pressing it to my lips and winking.
“Eat. There’s a lot more where these came from.”
12
ADALYN
The ground spinsas I eagerly take Cooper’s jacket from his extended hand and tuck it around me. It smells like him and is still warm from inside the pub. The goosebumps on my arms disappear as we walk down the street, a soft hum of music chasing our heels.
I’m deliriously drunk. And happy. Happy with a hot mouth. A burning one. Even after forcing a tall glass of milk down my throat before leaving the bar. I cup my hands around my mouth and blow, expecting to see fire. I’m disappointed when nothing but warm air escapes.
“My taste buds aren’t budding,” I shout into the street, eyebrows curling in at the squeaking sound of my voice. Eight tankards of beer and three plates of hot wings is what it took to beat Cooper. More beer and fewer wings than I was expecting, but a champion I am.
