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He reaches for the lemon. “Need some of this in that?”
I bat his hand away, snatch his glass back, setting it on the counter next to mine. “Maybe you should slow down.”
“Maybe I’ll—”
He reaches for my glass now, and I have to bat him away a second time. I take the shot, make a face, then snag the vodka, shoving it out of his way. “Did you like the drink I made you?”
His eyes hit mine, holding for a long moment. “Yeah,” he mutters, trying to reach past me for the bottle.
“I’ll make you another one.” With lots of lemon and ginger beer and not any vodka.
“I don’t need the fancy stuff with my alcohol,” he mutters, stretching out a hand for the bottle.
“Well,Ido,” I say. “And I need some food with this.”
Not a lie.
But why am I stopping him from drinking more? If he finishes the bottle, he’ll pass out and leave me alone, and then I can just—
Who am I kidding?
If he finishes the bottle, he’ll probably get alcohol poisoning and then I’ll be stuck trying to keep him alive through Snowmageddon.
Food certainly.
Then passing out.
“I’ll cook something,” he says.
“Do you have enough faculties left to maneuver open flames?” I ask, eyes narrowed.
“Nova.”
His voice is so steady and serious that I find my gaze drawn back to his. “Yeah?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“So says the man who’s consumed half a bottle of vodka in the last ten minutes.”
His mouth curves up. “I’m two hundred and twenty pounds and hock vodka as part of my part-time gig. It’s going to take more than a couple of shots to get me drunk.”
I would believe that…
Except, he’s holding himself in that careful way I do when I’m feeling a little tipsy.
Like, if I’m super-duper focused, I can pull off a relatively decent approximation of sober.
So, I don’t think it’s a good idea for this man to be wielding knives and getting close to the open flames of that huge gas stove.
But it’s not like I can stop him.
It’s not like he gives two shits about my opinions—he’s made that exceptionally clear.
I nibble at my bottom lip, trying to think fast while ignoring the way his eyes heat when I do that.
It’s the vodka talking, that’s all.
Or hisbranchanyway.
