“And mistakes,” I mumble. But when I look over at Callum, he still has the same smile as before. He’s not fazed. If anything, he seems relaxed. Like he wants to be here.
Like he wants to be with me…
I grab a shot and mentally scold myself not to get ahead of myself.
“Do you like tequila?” I ask, hating the words as they come out of my mouth. Callum Hardin is a whiskey neat man. He’s a sipping kind of man. He’s not a shots man and even if he were, I’d put money on it that it wouldn’t be shooters of Jose Cuervo.
“I do,” he nods once, very much to my surprise. “But I’m not much of a training wheels man.”
We watch as Callum wipes the salt of the shot glass and tosses the lime back on the tray. Paul grins and does the same, “My kind of guy.”
Well. I guess I’m doing tequila shots with my sister and my boss then.
I shrug and reach for mine. After Kate makes a toast, we down them. The sweet, bitter liquid burns an offensive trail of regret down my throat.
“Jesus. There’s a reason people stop doing this after they turn thirty,” Paul chokes.
“It tastes like ass?” Callum asks, and I spit out of a laugh.
I’m sorry but is Callum actually blending in with my sister and her fiancé? And is he actually being funny? Not that he wasn’t funny the night in Vegas when we went out on ourobligatory date. But Cal and Callum are two different people. Two very different people.
At least I think.
As it turns out, I don’t know either of those men as well as I thought I did. And this evening is about to prove that.
One round of shots leads to two and that leads to margaritas for the table, which we enjoy slowly and thoroughly over three baskets of chips and salsa. And somehow…even with my princess of a baby sister and her high society fiancé and my Vegas hookup slash boss slash possible lover…we are all having a really, really great time.
We laugh and talk and order more drinks. The guys get enchiladas, and Kate almost orders a salad, but I talk her into splitting the three meat Hawaiian fajitas with me. We eat and share food and, for the first time since Kate and I went out with the Casey twins during a homecoming bonfire in school (I was a dateless senior and she was a budding freshman), we actually have a good time.
Maybe it’s because of the company. Maybe it’s because we both need to have fun for once so we both just do it. Or maybe it’s because the guys are actually getting along to the point of joking and jabbing at each other.
“So, I have to apologize but I’m three drinks deep–” Paul starts in, pointing a flat hand at Callum.
“Five,” I correct him and both Kate and I laugh.
“Okay five. But I just can’t see you, heir of Hardin Records, on a stage at a speakeasy in Vegas strutting your stuff. I just can’t.”
“Well, he did,” I say.
“Yes…he did,” Kate grins.
Paul shakes his head. “But you’re…”
“Old?” Callum finishes the sentence.
“Oops,” Kate covers her mouth. I just smile down at my drink.
“I didn’t say that,” Paul backtracks.
“But you thought it. And it’s cool.”
“You don’t look it. Damn, you’re probably in better shape than I am.”
“Do you two need a moment?” I point between the guys. “Because Kate and I can give you a minute.”
Kate laughs and Paul shakes his head, flipping me the bird with a laugh. A real laugh. I knew he had one in there somewhere. I laugh too and then glance over at Callum who has apparently been staring at me with a warm smile and buzzy eyes.
“You’re cute,” he says and plants a kiss on my lips.
