“Don’t tell me,” he said before I had the chance to answer. “You’ve never drank before either?”
“I… no. I haven’t. But there’s a first time for everything, right?” I offered a bashful smile.
He shook his head. “I’m just going to corrupt you, aren’t I?”
I burst into a fit of laughter and clapped my hand over my mouth. The thought of Daze corrupting me—or anyone, for that matter—was hilarious. He was so sweet and genuine. He hardly seemed capable of corruption.
The asshole alphas in the circus, on the other hand…
If anything, it would probably be the other way around, with me corrupting the adorable aerialist. Daze had no idea what I’d done to get here. He didn’t know I was a criminal hiding illegal suppressants. He didn’t know I was potentially a murderer.
“You can try.” I winked.
I didn’t miss the mischievous glint in his eye as he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bar, ordering two drinks without batting an eye. Moments later, the bartender set two strawberry margaritas down in front of us, and Daze slid money across the counter.
“I’m going to pay you back,” I said, reaching for my glass. I brought it to my lips, surprised by the sugar rimming the top, and took a cautious sip. It was tangy and sweet, and burned a bit on the way down.
“I said don’t worry about it.” Daze took a swig of his drink and smirked in my direction. “Just let me treat you to a night on the town and enjoy it,cielito.”
I was so embarrassed that I hardly registered the nickname. It must have been in Spanish because I’d never heard it before.
If I remembered later, I’d ask him what it meant.
For now, I took two large gulps of my margarita to chase off the heat blooming through me.
“Easy there”—he laughed—“I don’t want to carry you back to the bus.”
My face flamed at the thought of him tossing me over his shoulder and toting me through the streets of Dallas. I set the glass down hurriedly and tucked my hair behind my ear.
“Sorry,” I muttered, just loud enough to hear over the music. “Just nervous.”
“Nervous?” He cocked a dark eyebrow at me. “What for?”
“New things. Change. Performing in front of thousands of people.” I refused to admit that right nowhewas making me more nervous than anything else. “I’m sure there are some other things in there that I haven’t thought of yet.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re handling it all very well.”
I snorted a laugh. “That makes one of us. If you could read my mind, you’d probably change yours.”
Daze ran his fingers through his rainbow hair, and it fell perfectly over his eyes. I tracked his movements, like I had been for the past few hours, unable to squash my guilt for staring. He was dating someone, sort of.
I needed to knock it off.
“And if I could read your mind?” he asked, taking another sip.
My eyes immediately went to his mouth on the glass, and I shifted in my seat. Just watching the man drink was making me squirm.How will I act if he teaches me to roll my hips on the dance floor later?I clenched my thighs together.
“What would I learn?” he asked.
Nope.
I wasn’t falling into that trap.
Did he really want to know what was on my mind? To hear the borderline-filthy things I was thinking about him? Or was he just talking about the internal panic I was disguising?
It was getting hard to think clearly, and I quickly reached for my drink again.
Maybe if I drank enough, I’d forget my shame and just say the things playing in my head.
