“Your tequila.” I pick it up and offer it to him. “And chocolate. And change.”
He takes it and pulls out the Clase Azul Gold first, turning the bottle in his hand. His eyebrows lift. “I’ve had this before. It’s great.”
“Of course you have.”
“Looks like you got the best for the best.” The corner of his mouth lifts.
The balcony glows behind him. The string lights are wrapped around the rafters and the overhang. Warm light splashes into the room.
“Have a drink with me. You look like you’ve had a day.”
“That’s one way to put it. But I shouldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
The breeze pulls his shirt open another inch. I should go downstairs and go to bed.
“Tempting.”
He takes a step back, allowing me space to enter, then sets the bottle on the desk and pulls out two shot glasses. I step inside and close the door behind me. The room feels so much smaller than it did this morning. I’ve never experienced the B&B like this.
The balcony in this light is different. Two chairs face the ocean with a small table between them. Below us, the beach is dark, except for the white edges of waves rolling in. Music from Cocktails & Chaos thumps in the distance, and the air has a coolness underneath that only comes after sunset or in the winter. Carter hands me a shot with salt on the rim and a lime wedge balanced on the edge.
“You had garnishes?” I ask incredulously.
“Tequila requires it. I walked to the grocery store earlier so I would be prepared when you arrived.”
I lift my glass but narrow my eyes. “To being your personal shopper when you’re more than capable of doing it yourself. The limes and salt are proof.”
“Cheers to that. Love a smart-ass,” he says, clinking his shot glass against mine. Salt falls from the rim onto the floor, but he’s not bothered by it.
We slam them back, and it goes down smoothly.
“This stuff is dangerous,” he says.
“The best things usually are.”
“Play a game with me,” he offers, moving through the open doors of the balcony.
He sits in one of the chairs and pats it. I grab the bottle of tequila and follow him.
“Give me the rules,” I say, sitting, facing him, allowing my curiosity to get the best of me.
“It’s called Consequences. Answer a question honestly or take the shot. Then it’s your turn to do the asking.”
“If that’s the case, we might finish this bottle tonight.”
“Potentially.” He leans back. “Are you in?”
I stare out at the water, contemplating what I should do. Then I swear I hear Fallon’s words from earlier today repeating in my head.
I glance over at him. “Sure. I’ll play your silly little game.”
He pours us both new shots. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-three. And you?”
“Forty-one.”
