“I don’t care.”
Benoit rolled his eyes. “Then go get a booth and I’ll be there in a minute.”
Fine with me. The sooner we got this over with, the sooner I could leave.
God, please make Benoit have another place to be tonight.
No, you know what? Fuck you. I don’t need any favors from you.
I took a booth in the far back corner, out of the lights and away from people. That was exactly the mood I was in. I didn’t want to be seen or talked to. But unfortunately for me, the smiling Frenchman, carrying two shot glasses and a bottle of Gran Patron, was coming straight for me.
“Tequila?” I winced as Benoit slid into the booth opposite me.
“Expensivetequila,” he corrected me. “Plus, you don’t get to complain if you don’t want to make suggestions.”
He had a point, I supposed, and tequila would work much faster at making me forget what a pathetic loser I was to be getting hard for a man I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever have again.
He uncorked the bottle and poured four shots, then slid two over in front of me.
“Usually, I’d be much more sophisticated about this,” Benoit said as he took the shot glass between his fingers. “Insist you enjoy the aroma in an actual glass, by inhaling and then?—”
I threw back the first shot before he could finish his spiel and slammed the glass back down on the table.
“Right, but tonight I’m thinking we go with shots.”
The second shot was down my throat before he’d lifted his first glass, and I didn’t miss the frown that creased his brow.
I slumped back in my seat, and when Benoit finished his drinks, he cocked his head and pursed his glossy lips.
“What’s happening here,mon cher?”
I shrugged, even as my leg started to bounce under the table. The last thing I needed was to have my brother’s eyes back on me. I’d just gotten them to back off after the whole hacker debacle, so I needed to play this just right.
“Nothing. I was just checking some equipment upstairs, that's all.”
Yep, just as I expected, that lie made me sound like a fucking idiot.
“Equipment?” Benoit waggled his brows. “Oo-la-la. What kind of equipment? Oh, wait, did someone finally get you to break your vow of celibacy?”
I fucking wish.The funny—and depressingly sad—thing about this whole conversation was that Benoit was joking. My brothers always did about my being celibate. They just thought I was super private. Bet Benoit would bring three more bottles of tequila over if he knew it was actually true.
That Iwascelibate.
“No. I was— Forget it,” I said, and this timeIreached for the bottle and refilled our glasses.
Benoit picked up one and brought it to his lips, eyeing me over the rim. “This wouldn’t have something to do with a certain priest you had to confess to last night, would it?”
I wasn’t going to answer that. So the next best thing I could do was throw back another shot.
“I thought it was starting to help?” he continued.
Then another.
“Father Vitale is such a great listener. I always feel such a sense of peace after talking to him.”
Ah, fuck it. Just give me the whole damn bottle.
“Don’t you?”
