Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“Thanks. I’ve got to sit. My feet are still killing me.”
I wouldn’t mind that, either, so I let her lead me to some patio furniture clustered on the corner of the lanai. She sinks onto a love seat, probably because it’s closest. I ignore the chair a few feet away and sit beside her, following suit when she props her feet on the low table.
“Hell of a night,” I say.
“I have a whole new respect for waitstaff. It’s a hard job.”
“It is. Bartending is also tougher than I remember. Or maybe I’m just rusty.”
“It might feel that way, but you have the right touch. I heard nothing but compliments on the drinks tonight.”
I smile. “Good. Since I started again, I’ve been telling myself that it’s like riding a bike.”
A smile floats across her face. “Probably. Like a lot of things, I guess.”
“Yes.” The first thing that comes to mind is sex. In fact, whenever I get close to Bethany, it’s always on my brain.
It sucks being so suspicious of the woman I’m dying to fuck.
As she sips her wine, I scoot closer—until she stiffens.
Biting back a curse, I settle back against the cushions and remind myself that I should be focused on what to say next to Bethany, how to get her to open up like she was on the drive over. I have to stop fixating on how to get into her pants. Something has raised her reserve again, damn it, and I need to relax her.
Thankfully, I know just how…
“Let’s play a drinking game.”
“Like we’re at a frat party?” She raises an arched brow at me.
“Like we’re trying to forget our problems, be silly, and have a little fun.”
Bethany glances around the gathering. “The rest of the women are all pregnant. They can’t play.”
“I meant just the two of us. We’ve got our cozy corner and some fresh drinks. Why not?”
“Or we could just call it a day and get some much-needed sleep.” She sighs tiredly.
“Where’s your New Year’s spirit?”
With a shake of her head, she laughs. “All right, but only because it’s New Year’s and only because I graduated college at seventeen, so I missed all the usual party stuff.”
“Excellent. We’re going to play a game called Drink or Dare.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
Because I just made it up. “It’s like truth or dare, but if you don’t tell the truth, you’re daring yourself to take a drink.”
She shrugs. “Sounds simple enough. But I’m going to bore you. I’ve led a pretty sheltered life.”
I haven’t, so this should be interesting. “I’ll ask you a question first so you get the gist of it. Um…drink or dare. Have you ever had a one-night stand?”
Bethany presses her lips together. “I’m pleading the fifth.”
I shoot her a grin, but wonder why she won’t answer. “Then you have to drink.”
She lifts her glass in salute, then takes a dainty sip of the vino before setting it on the table again. If I let her play like this, we’ll be here all night.
“Nope.” I hand her the wine glass again. “You have to drink all of it.”
Her eyes flare wide. “Are you kidding?”
“Hey, every time I defer I have to drink a whole bottle of beer.” And after a few, I’ll probably be drunk as hell. But I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.
“I’m a total lightweight,” she pushes back. “This is going to be a short game.”
That definitely skews the odds in my favor, along with the fact that I probably outweigh her by nearly a hundred pounds.
With a little frown, she lifts the glass to her lips and starts imbibing. At first, the sips are small and controlled. But when she eases the tumbler from her mouth and sighs at how little she’s managed to drink, she tries again, this time gulping the wine until she manages to drain every last drop.
“Fantastic. Wait here!” Before she can ask what I’m doing, I dart into the kitchen, past Maxon and Griff, who are strolling out to meet up with the others, then grab the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge. When I return to the lanai, I refill her glass and set the half-full bottle on the floor beside the love seat. “Now you’re ready for the next question.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Isn’t it my turn to ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
Her jaunty little smile surprises me. “Hmm… Drink or dare. How old were you the first time you got drunk?”
She’s keeping things light, which makes this game easy on me. Me? I’ll be pressing hard, but she probably won’t figure that out until it’s too late.
“Thirteen. I went to a cousin’s wedding, and when the adults all got busy socializing and dancing, I dipped into the punchbowl. No one told me it was spiked. My mother was so pissed when my dad had to pull me out of the men’s bathroom because I’d gone in there to pee but I was too drunk to find my way out.”