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“You have to admit, you were an annoying bar owner,” she counters with amusement. “And that you drank before you turned twenty-one.”
“I won’t deny that.”
“See! Why was it such a big deal for me to drink?” She snatches up her martini, gives me acheers,and takes a long sip with a smirk.
“The difference is, my dad was the owner then and didn’t care if I drank. I owned the bar when you tried anddidcare.”
She rolls her eyes and drops her empty glass onto the table. “FYI, and side note, I am a high-maintenance girlfriend. Just wanted to give you a heads-up. This is your first test: I’m drinkinga lotof martinis tonight. I might be annoying.”
“And I don’t give a shit. High maintenance, annoying—which I have dealt with for years, mind you—or not, you’re still mine.”
* * *
“I can’t eatfor another week,” Sierra declares when we walk out of Clayton’s, dodging bodies in the busy crowd.
We’ve run into three people from Blue Beech, and luckily, Sierra had drank enough martinis that she didn’t stress about what they thought about her being married.
Me? I couldn’t care less.
Let them report back to Devin.
“Even if it’s an ice cube,” she goes on, “I’ll die.” Her head falls back in a groan. “And thank goodness you barely drank, so you can be DD tonight,boyfriend.”
I grin like a motherfucker at her last word.
I gape down at her as she stays in my hold. “You’re going to regret drinking so many martinis tomorrow,girlfriend.”
She wobbles in her heels a bit, and I tighten my arms around her shoulders, keeping her from falling.
“Nope. I’ll be ecstatic I drank all those martinis.” She licks her lips. “Martinis are my jam, and I can’t wait to bring more recipes to the pub. I’ll turn all the beer and whiskey drinkers into champagne and martini connoisseurs.”
I chuckle. “Good luck with that, babe.”
I hand the valet our slip and focus on her, admiring the woman who’s become everything to me, while she babbles on about different martinis—something along the lines of Key Lime and Blood Oranges.
This damn woman has buried herself so deep in my fucking veins that there’s no way I can cut her out.
I wave off the valet when he goes to help her into the car, doing it myself, and rush over to the driver’s side.
“I wonder if the bar is busy tonight,” she comments, leaning back in her seat.
“We won’t know until tomorrow when I check the figures,” I say, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Ah … the boss won’t be going down to check on business?” She gasps. “I can’t believe Maliki, the workaholic, will let that slide for a night.”
“The boss won’t even be in the building.” Even though it’s dark and she most likely can’t see me, I smirk her way. “Tonight, it’s you and me, babe. No bar chaos, no employees, nothing other than room service and us relaxing in a hotel suite.”
She perks up in her seat. “Seriously?”
I nod, loving how excited she is. I should’ve spoiled her like this sooner. I’ll have to make up for my lack of taking her out.
“Uh, shit,” she mutters, and by her tone, I wasn’t supposed to hear that.
“What’s up?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“Sierra,” I warn.
