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Emmett looked in the refrigerated case to see what he had chilled. “I’ve got sparkling wine, yes. Not actual French champagne. The folks in town usually don’t come here to drop that kind of money on bubbly.”
Her brow raised like she was genuinely impressed he could distinguish champagne from sparkling wine. But, then, he was a bartender; it was his job to know. He’d also consumed his fair share of actual champagne in Tampa when he was living the big life.
“Do you want a glass?” he asked hesitantly. She insisted she didn’t drink, but he couldn’t fathom any other reason why she’d ask.
“I think so. Actually, I think we both need one after the night we’ve had. I know I have a pretty hard stance on alcohol, but a celebration is a celebration, right?”
“Okay,” he said with a smile. She was nonstop surprises tonight. He pulled the bottle from the case and made quick work of the cork. He pulled out two champagne flutes from overhead and poured them each a glass.
“To nabbing the Penis Picasso!” Emmett said, raising his glass.
“To teamwork,” she added, pointedly avoiding saying the dreaded P-word again.
They both brought their drinks to their lips and took a sip. It had been a long time since Emmett had anything like this, not since the night he’d bought the bar and celebrated the start of his new life. Since that time, life had been easy and fun, but there hadn’t been any big moments to celebrate. She was right to suggest this.
“This is yummy,” Maddie noted as she drained her glass with a satisfied look on her face. “It’s exactly what I would expect golden bubbles to taste like. Can I have some more?”
“Sure. Once the bottle’s open, it’s getting drunk or tossed out anyway.” Emmett was surprised she wanted more, but he wasn’t going to tell her no. He filled her glass with more golden liquid and watched her bring it to her lips.
“This must be why people drink,” she noted after a few more sips. “I’m feeling good. Loose. Relaxed. For the first time in a long time, I don’t have a care in the world.”
Emmett nodded, wondering if giving her champagne on an empty stomach was a bad idea. It sounded like it was going straight to her head. Reaching below the bar, he grabbed the scoop and poured a bowl of pretzels. “These make it even better,” he said.
Maddie absently popped a pretzel into her mouth. “Mmm. They do. Nice and salty.” A sip or two later, her glass was empty again. Emmett had taken only three sips of his own drink. Hopefully, she’d be able to get back across the street. “Come sit by me, Emmett. The bar isn’t open; you don’t need to hide behind the counter like that.”
She was right. Emmett walked out from behind the bar and settled onto the stool beside her. “Force of habit,” he said.
Maddie was staring intently at the last few drops in her glass. “This color reminds me of the sunrise. Or, at least, what I think it looks like. I’m not sure.”
Emmett frowned. “You’re up at three every morning. How have you not seen the sunrise?”
She shrugged. “I’m in the kitchen working. Hey”—she perked up—“maybe we should stay up tonight and watch the sunrise together. We could go back to the roof of the electronics store. I bet that has a nice view.”
It probably did, but he sincerely doubted she’d make it that long. He was about to say as much when she reached across the bar for the bottle and poured herself another glass. “You might want to pace yourself,” he said instead.
“Why?” she asked, setting the nearly empty bottle back down. “I’m probably never going to do it again. Alcohol turns me into a fool. I figure I might as well enjoy tonight for what it is and move on.”
“You’re not worried about doing something foolish tonight?”
She raised her glass to her lips and then stopped. Her bright blue eyes fixed on him and a wicked smile curled her lips. “If I do something foolish tonight, it’s long overdue and really has very little to do with the alcohol.”
Emmett arched an eyebrow at her. “You say that, but in the morning you may feel differently.”
Maddie took a large sip from her glass. “I want to feel differently. I want to feel anything at all. My life is so . . . lonely. You wouldn’t think so, with all the family I have in town, but it is. These last few weeks with you, even when I was ready to throttle you, were some of the better ones I’ve had in a long time. Our date, that kiss in the car . . . it reminded me just how much I’ve missed in my life. Did you know I’ve had only one lover in my whole life? It was a man I met in Paris. I had to go all the way to France to meet a man who wasn’t just interested in my family. I can’t go on dedicating every moment to my career because I’m afraid. I want more,” she said. “And with this liquid courage in my glass I’m not ashamed to say that what I’d like more of is you. Tonight.”
Setting her glass aside, Maddie leaned in and clumsily planted her lips against his. There was a newfound eagerness in her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed the firm globes of her breasts against his chest. Her tongue sought his, her moves bolder than before.
Emmett could only hold on to her waist, in part to steady her and in part to keep him in check. He’d much rather let his hands roam over every inch of her body, but he knew this wasn’t the time. He would let her get this kiss out of her system and then he’d take her home.
He didn’t like the women in his life to wake up with regrets. If Maddie still wanted him in the morning after a cup of coffee, she could walk back across the street and they’d pick up where they left off.
Finally, Maddie sat back in her seat, gripping at the counter to keep upright. Three glasses of champagne had collided with exhaustion and an empty stomach to send this teetotaler over the edge, and quickly.
Biting at her lip, she attempted to grip the hem of her T-shirt and pull it up over her head. Before Emmett could stop her, she got it caught, her elbows and arms tangled in the top. He tried to ignore the tantalizing view of her breasts, proudly displayed in a pink lace bra, as he reached over and helped her straighten out. Instead of pulling the shirt off, he tugged
it back down.
“I don’t want to wear it anymore,” she said with a pouting lower lip. “I want you to touch me. Don’t you want to touch me, Emmett?”
