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Rick offered me the flask. “Want any?” He then lowered the flask to his lap when he muttered, “Wait. How old are you?”
So he knew about me but didn’t know everything about me. “I’m eighteen,” I told him.
“Oh, well, then I guess I shouldn’t be offering you anything,” he remarked. He turned his head to the side, as if checking for anyone walking along the garden path. When it was obvious no one else was around, he once again offered me the flask. “I guess it can be our secret. I won’t tell if you won’t.”
I let my gaze drop to the flask. I’d never drunk anything before. I’d never done a lot of things. Gareth was right when he’d said I had no friends. Never went to any parties, never went to any school dances… never went out on any dates. Any free time I had that wasn’t spent doing schoolwork or cleaning up our apartment had been spent on art.
And here a handsome stranger was, offering me a drink.
I should tell him no. I should get up and go back inside. It probably wasn’t safe for me to be out here, alone with him, a stranger who could easily overpower me if he wanted to.
But I didn’t. Instead, I took the flask from him and brought it to my lips. I got a whiff of something strong from inside, so I took the tiniest sip ever from it.
The moment the liquid inside hit my tongue, I gagged, but I forced it down. Wow. That was… strong stuff, whatever it was. I handed it back to Rick, who watched me with a grin on his face.
“Not bad, huh?” He took another sip, and unlike me, he didn’t cough or make a face.
“What’s that tattoo of?” I asked, pointing to his hand.
“This?” Rick lifted his tattooed hand toward me a bit, letting me get a better look at it. “It’s nothing, really.” He let out a soft chuckle. “A woman I used to like had a small tattoo like this. When she died, I got it in memory of her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say to that. Death was, ironically, not something I was good with. She must’ve meant a lot to him, for him to get a tattoo for her. Every time he looked at that tattoo, he’d remember her.
“Don’t be,” he spoke quickly. “It was a long time ago.” He must’ve wanted to change the subject, which I couldn’t blame him for, because he offered me the flask again and asked, “So, I take it you’re not excited to move in to Montgomery Manor?”
My fingers accidentally brushed against his when I took the flask. He was… a lot warmer than me, I noticed. We both pretended it didn’t happen. “Not really. I’m sure it’s a nice enough place, but… I have the feeling it’s going to feel small with Gareth there.” I took another teeny, tiny sip, making a face right after.
Nope. Still wasn’t used to that, whatever it was.
Rick ran a hand down the side of his face, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, that kid is…” He stopped and leaned in toward me, his voice dropping to a whisper, “You didn’t hear this from me, but that kid ain’t quite right. Alistair would never hear it, because he’s his dead sister’s kid, but Gareth ain’t all there in the head. I’d steer clear of him whenever you can, if I were you.”
That wasn’t exactly news to me. What Rick had said fit with the vibe I got from Gareth anytime he was near; there was something off about him, something dangerous. I started to hand him the flask, his words of warning sweeping over me and making me shiver, but he didn’t go to take it.
“Are you cold? Here.” Rick unbuttoned his suit jacket, getting up to drape it around my shoulders.
As he sat back down, a little closer than he’d been before, I told him, “Thank you.” This time, when I offered him the flask, he took it.
His jacket was warm with his body heat. The night wasn’t exactly cold, more like cool, so I didn’t need him to come to the rescue with his jacket, but… it was nice. Gentlemanly, almost. No one had ever done anything like that for me before.
Not that I ever put myself in situations where I was out at night with guys, but you know.
“I feel for you,” Rick was busy saying after sipping from the flask. “I do. I’d hate living in that house with them. It wouldn’t be so bad to be a Montgomery if it weren’t for the kid. But Alistair won’t hear of any concerns regarding Gareth, so you best prepare yourself for that. No matter what he does, he can do no wrong. Have a kid grow up like that and he’ll be nothing but a spoiled psychopath.”
The more Rick talked about Gareth, the more I sensed an underlying hatred for him. From what it sounded like, I couldn’t blame him for feeling that way about the younger Montgomery.
We sat there for a while, talking. The subject of conversation changed, moving away from Gareth and Alistair and the wedding to any and everything. We talked, we laughed… maybe I drank too much from his flask, because I started to feel a little warm inside, all my fingers and toes and such. My head felt light, and laughing came all too easily.
But I didn’t mind. I’d much rather be out here than in there, with everyone, under the scrutinizing eyes of my mom and her new husband.
And Gareth.
God, I had the feeling my life in that house was going to be miserable. This might just be the last decent night I had—and that was a depressing thought.
Rick had set an arm on the bench behind me, and I’d scooted closer to him. Our legs touched, neither one of us pulling away. He was too old for me. I knew that, but at the same time, he was an attractive guy, and he wasn’t like anyone else here. Not snobbish, not smug and holier than thou. He was easy to get along with, easy to laugh with.
“So,” I started, “how is someone like you friends with someone like Alistair?” The question was already out of my mouth before I had the chance to worry that it’d come off insulting, so it was too late to take it back.
He’d set his flask down on his other side—we’d emptied the thing. He ran a hand down the side of his face, chuckling softly. “I get that question a lot. Him and I, we go way back. Too far back, if I’m honest. I’ve known him ever since he pulled out of his family’s corporations and bought out Eastcreek.”
