She coated the bottom of two cups with the honey then spooned in a hint of brown sugar before drenching the mixture with fresh-squeezed lemon.
“Is this your version of a hot toddy?”
“I experiment with recipes.The brown sugar highlights some of the whiskey’s finer notes.Speaking of which”—Sofia indicated the fancy-looking bottle—“are you sure you want to use this?I typically choose something less expensive.”
“Swill?”
“You’re a whiskey snob?”
“Indubitably,” he replied.
She grinned, liking this side of him, less nerve-wracking than the Dom who’d commanded the loft a few minutes ago.Still, she knew a thing or two about alcohol.As she eyed the amount she was adding to his cup, she realized he was going to be drinking a ten-dollar cup of tea.
After pouring tea into the mug, she gave it a gentle stir.“Cinnamon is a nice touch, if you like it.”
“No.Thanks.”He accepted her proffered cup.
She waited while he tried it.
“Damn.”
“Well?”she asked while pouring tea into her cup.
“Better than I expected.Thank you.”He gestured toward her mug.“Not putting whiskey in yours?”
“No.I still have a long drive back to Corpus.”
“You’ll be here a bit.Should at least give it a try.”He extended his hot toddy to her.
Accepting it, drinking from it, implied intimacy.And yet, as she’d been telling him, nothing about their time together had been normal.
Their fingers brushed as he handed off the mug.
She blew on the surface of the hot toddy then took a small sip.The alcohol seeped through her and she felt its soothing effects creep up the back of her neck.The flavors leaped to life, and she tasted a layer of peat then the sweetness of maple.“Really palatable.”
He accepted the mug back.
She picked up her own and took a drink.
“Not as good?”he guessed.
“A let-down,” she agreed.The disappointment had her reaching for the bottle.She splashed about a quarter of an ounce into the wannabe toddy, enough to add flavor, but not enough to affect her judgment or reactions.
“Let me show you around,” he said.“But don’t think I’ve forgotten that you owe me some answers.”
Her hand shook.
“Bring your drink,” he encouraged.“This will take a while.”
Around them, wind continued to pound the house.
“That would be anoccasional gust,” he informed her.
“Yeah.”She looked out of the back window and saw the wind stripping some pink blossoms from oleander bushes.The rain was even fiercer than it had been earlier, and lightning ripped through the air.
A shocking clash of thunder sent Loopy scurrying under the kitchen table.She knocked a chair back and curled up, her head buried under one paw.
“I’ll check the weather radar when we we’re in my study,” he said.
