She looks from me to the bottle of whiskey and doesn’t say anything.
The corner of my mouth lifts. “You gonna open that door, sweetheart? I did say I’m the only one you could let in.”
“Oh God. Yes, of course. I just thought…” She yanks the door open and steps out of the way. “Of course, come back in. I just thought you’d want to…that you’d be…” She waves a hand toward the door. “Out there. With your friends.”
“In our clubhouse.” I drop the bottle on the end table next to the couch and grin.
“I forgot what you called it.” Her face is blushing hard, and I can’t help thinking how different she is from my “friends.”
“Compound,” I tell her, kicking off my boots and dropping onto the couch.
“I have so many questions,” she says quietly, a huge smile on her face. “But it seemed rude to ask.”
I uncap the whiskey and take a long drink from the bottle. I hold it out and offer her a sip.
She looks at it but then motions toward the beer. “I haven’t even finished that yet.”
I shake my head. “Don’t matter. Looks like we’re gonna be here awhile. Unless this storm does something to shock the weather people, we might be locked down into tomorrow night.”
A small frown plays on her lips, and it hits me like a fist to the gut. She’s beautiful. Maybe a little uptight, definitely still scared. But she’s fucking gorgeous. I can think of worse ways to ride out a storm.
I hold the bottle to my lips again. “The way I see it, you got two choices. You can get drunk and pass out, miss the whole damn thing. Or you can sit here and freak out every time the lights flicker.” I take another sip. “I sure as hell know what I plan to do.”
“Can I ask about this place?” she asks, holding out a tentative hand for the whiskey.
I hand it to her. “I’ll make you a deal. You got a question, you take a shot. You do that, I’ll answer anything you ask.”
“And you’ll tell me the truth?” She’s standing in front of me, looking at me with this combination of curiosity and something that makes the blood heat in my veins.
“The whole truth and nothing but.” I pat the couch beside me. Her dress looks like it’s mostly dried, and her hair is in half-wet, long, soft-looking curls covering her chest. “I’m an open book.”
She drops down onto the couch and crosses her legs under her. “That’s literally my first question. Your books.” She points to the armoire but then immediately covers her mouth with her hand. “I snooped. I’m sorry. But just a little… I?—”
I tip the bottle toward her. “You got a question in there?”
Her face breaks into an easy smile, and even the flickering of lights doesn’t dim it. She squares her shoulders, takes a small sip, and then closes her eyes, trying hard not to cough as the liquid goes down. I hold back a laugh as she slaps her free hand against the top of her thigh, her eyes watering.
“Okay,” she gasps, trying to get the question out even though she’s still clearly fighting a coughing fit. “Why do you have all those books? Are you in law school?”
I hold up two fingers. “That was two questions.”
She looks down at the whiskey but doesn’t hesitate. She takes another small sip, this one seeming to go down a lot easier. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and smiles, a victorious-looking little grin that sends a very different kind of heat through my limbs. “Two questions, two drinks. So now, I get two answers.”
I settle back against the cushions and kick my feet up onto the small ottoman. “I read a lot,” I say. “Not in law school. Doubt I’d get in.”
She is studying my face quietly, waiting for me to say more. What the fuck. Why not?
“I hardly finished high school. Been arrested about a half dozen times for stupid shit. I was rowdy when I was young.” I chuckle. That’s putting it mildly. “One conviction. Served a couple months for beating up an asshole in a bar fight that went way too far.”
She nods but doesn’t look put off by anything I’m saying. “So, you study the law to understand it? Are you still a criminal?”
I burst out laughing at that, but I just point to the bottle. “At this rate, you’re gonna pass out before I answer.”
“Is that your way of avoiding the question? I think we should have been clearer on the rules of the game.” She gives me a playful pout but takes another shot. “So, you study the law to, what, know what’s legal?”
I shrug. “Let’s just say I never have trusted authority. The best defense is a strong offense. That kind of thing.” I’m not sure if she follows what I’m saying, but I have a few questions of my own. I reach for the bottle and take a swig. “My turn. What’s a woman like you doing out in a storm like this?”
She presses her lips together and looks down at her hand. She’s laced her fingers together in her lap, and it’s clear I’ve touched a nerve.
