“Trust me on this.” His gaze bores into mine.
“Okay.” It comes out like a squeak.
He smiles, and it’s ethereal.
“Ready?” He sits on the couch a few feet from me.
I nod and lift the glass to my lips. Before I tip it to take a sip, the aroma fills my nose. There’s a warm vanilla smell mixed with citrus and some other scents I can’t identify. I tilt the glass back, hesitant because of my initial experience with whiskey this evening. However, I do want to forget this day, plus, this is no cheap bottle of alcohol, so it’s bound to be an improvement over what I had earlier.
When a small amount of the amber liquid flows over my tongue and slides down my throat, I immediately understand what Al was talking about. There’s still a burn, but it’s a good one, enjoyable even. The taste, though, oh my gosh, it wipes away any memory of the shitty whiskey I had earlier today. It’s smooth, with a slightly fruity edge, instantly ruining any other brand for me for the rest of my life. Maybe any other liquor, period.
“This is fabulous. I see what you’re talking about. With this out there on the market, I’m shocked more people aren’t walking around drunk.”
He smiles, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more spectacular. I don’t know why, but I suspect it’s one he doesn’t let show often. That makes me sad for him. It also makes me wonder when the last time was that I smiled as much as I have this evening. I was sure nothing could pull me from the dark place in my heart after the day I’d had, but meeting Al did. At least some, anyway.
“I’m glad you like it and that I could introduce you to it. It would be a shame if you judged all whiskey by that sewer water you were drinking earlier.”
I return his smile and suddenly feel awkward. We sit in silence for a minute or two, sipping from our glasses, and I stareout the window. When I sneak a peek at him, he’s looking at me. He’s not smiling anymore.
“Betty? Are you okay?” His voice is kind, soothing.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just realizing that I’m halfway to drunk and followed a man that I just met up to his hotel room. That’s out of character for me.”
He leans forward as if he’s going to rise.
“We can go downstairs again. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He stands, and I grasp his forearm before he moves out of my reach.
“No. I want to be here. It should probably freak me out that I did this, but it doesn’t. I don’t understand why, but I trust you beyond your taste in whiskey. Which is damn good, by the way.”
I force a smile and try to turn my melancholy around.
“Plus, I snapped a picture of you when you weren’t looking and texted it to my friend, including your room number, height, weight, blood type, mother’s maiden name…”
Al laughs, and he sits. He’s closer to me, this time. I think a change of subject would be wise.
“So, you’re in the construction business or something? You seem like you’re here with the conference.”
He nods.
“Yes. I don’t normally come to these things. My brother—we work together—does. Except this year, he needed me to come.”
“Why does he usually get to come, and you don’t? It doesn’t seem fair. It seems like you guys should take turns.”
“Oh, no. God, no. I don’twantto attend most years. Enormous crowds like this aren’t really my thing. Truthfully, talking to a stranger in a bar, let alone a beautiful woman, is unusual for me.”
My stomach flips at his words. I haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. When you’re a caregiver for someone else, especially someone who lives with you, you’re never off duty. Self-care hastaken a back seat to caring for my mother, but I’m honored to do it.
I guess none of that matters anymore, though. I force the thoughts out of my head.
“So does that mean you’re not in the habit of bringing strange women back to your hotel room?” I say it with a flirty air, aiming to make it light, but I really want him to answer, and I hope the answer is no.
Chapter Four
Delaney
“Absolutely not.”
The way he says it—firm and leaving no question—does something to me. His deep green eyes fix on me, and something in me knows he’s telling the truth. My cheeks heat.
