Page 11 of Theirs to Treasure

She shakes her head.

“Margarita, maybe?”

“I don’t want to wait that long for it to hit my bloodstream. How about a scotch, maybe? Or bourbon?” Then she wrinkles her pert little nose. “Wait. Are they the same thing?” She blows out a little breath.

Has she ordered an alcoholic beverage before? She gives off the vibe of a young woman who’s been protected her whole life.

So what’s changed?

“I’ll trust you.” She taps a perfectly manicured fingernail to her chin. “As long as it’s expensive.”

“Coming right up,” he promises, turning back to the selections and reaching for the top shelf.

“Can you make it a double, please?”

The bartender nods. “You got it.”

After pouring her a Bonds whiskey, he turns and places her crystal glass on a coaster. “Would you like to open a tab?”

Immediately she digs a credit card from her tiny purse. “Run it now, please? No telling when it’ll be shut off.”

“Shut off?” I ask as Zev and I exchange glances.

“On second thought…” Instead of sliding it toward him, she places it close to her and then downs the drink in a single, impressive gulp.

“Jesus.” Zev shakes his head.

Coughing furiously, she slams down the glass.

Her eyes water, and she grabs a napkin to wipe them.

“That was…” She blows out a breath. “Wow.”

The bartender leans toward her. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” She grins. “No.” She looks past him to the bottle and signals for a refill.

“You sure?”

With determination, she pulls back her shoulders. “Never more certain of anything.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As he pours, she leans forward and props her elbows on the bar top and then rests her cheeks between her upturned hands.

“Bad day?” he asks.

“I was supposed to be getting rid of my V-card tonight,” she tells him miserably.

The man almost spills a hundred dollars’ worth of spirits.

So she’s not heading to a cosplay event. Our beautiful young woman appears to be a runaway bride.

“Was promised all the orgasms I could handle.” She downs half of her next whiskey. “How many is that, anyway?”

“Jesus,” Zev whispers. “Poor girl.”

My brother and I exchange glances. “I hate to see a damsel in distress.”