"How could twenty-four be too young for you?"
Blake was still grinning when he answered me. "I'm thirty-four. I draw the line at being a decade older than the woman I'm flirting with. She rarely gets my jokes."
It was my turn for disbelief. "No way. You look even younger than me!"
He lifted his beer and took a sip. I couldn't stop myself from watching his throat work as he swallowed. It was crazy. How could watching someone drink beer be sexy?
In Blake's case, however, it was.
"Perfectly groomed warlock, huh?" he asked.
"Yeah. She's been parading eligible men from her coven in front of me all week. They're nice and good looking but..." I trailed off, not sure if I should share the rest.
"Boring, right?"
My face heated a little. "Yeah."
He leaned a little closer, his shoulder bumping mine playfully. "You like the bad boys, huh?"
My blush intensified and I cursed my fair skin because I knew he could see it. "Not exactly. I just don't like boring ones."
"Now why do I get the feeling you're not telling me the whole truth?" he murmured.
"Oh, zip it," I retorted, picking up my glass.
Blake chuckled. "Well, you're safe from me, sugar. I'm too old to be a bad boy."
I gave him a sideways glance, which made his laughter increase. "Now, why don't I believe a word of that?" Blake might not be a bad boy, but he had an edge and I liked it a lot. In fact, I got the distinct impression the sharpness beneath his exterior could be lethal.
"Because you're smart as well as beautiful?"
"Nice save," I teased.
As we continued to chat and drink, our conversation kept that same light, flirty tone and I realized I was having fun. He was intelligent, but didn't take himself too seriously. He was also sexy as hell.
Still, I noticed he avoided talking about himself. He would ask me questions, joke, and laugh, but he didn't reveal much personal information.
Finally, I said, "Well, you know why I'm hiding out in this bar tonight. Why are you here?"
As soon as his face began to shut down, I regretted my question immediately. That grim expression returned and his eyes were no longer lit with humor.
"I'm escaping too," he muttered, draining the rest of his beer. He lifted a hand and looked down the bar toward Jimmy. "How bout a shot?"
The bartender hesitated, his eyes wavering back and forth between Blake and me, and then he sighed and turned toward the shelves behind him.
Though I hated that I'd extinguished the humor in his gorgeous blue eyes, I couldn't stop myself from asking, "What are you escaping?"
Blake scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly looking tired and drawn. "Memories."
The shot glasses hit the bar in front of us and I watched almost blindly as Jimmy poured three shots of clear liquor from a bottle with no label.
He grabbed one as Blake and I took ours. Lifting it in the air, his eyes on Blake, he stated, "To David and Rose." Jimmy gave me a pointed look before we all tossed them back.
The liquid went down warm and smooth, leaving a trail of heat in my throat and chest to my stomach. As I set my glass down on the bar top, I noticed that Blake was glaring at Jimmy.
"Thanks, man."
Jimmy just shrugged, gave me another pointed look, then took the bottle and shot glasses and made his way back to the other end of the bar.
