“Aren’t you going to have any?”
“I do not like wine.”
“No one likes wine.” Not really. If they claim to, they’re most likely lying. “Still, seems like a shame to waste it.” I swipe the bottle and take a swig straight from the long neck. Fruity, with notes of—oh, who am I fooling? It tastes like wine.
I hold out the bottle to him.
His fingers brush mine, wrapping nearly around the whole bloody bottle as he takes it from me. He brings it to his lips, his throat bobbing with his swallow.
What is it about being green that makes a throat so much more attractive?
Not once did I ever notice Nolan’s throat. For all I know, he might not have had one at all.
Maddox’s grimace makes me giggle. “This is revolting.”
“Yes, but the more you drink, the better it tastes.”
He peers into the amber bottle, his lips pursed. “Is this true?”
If only. “No. But you don’t notice the taste as much because your mouth is too numb and your mind is too fuzzy.”
He places the bottle back in my hand. “Are you here to see your cousin? I am afraid Kerris Dawn is still in Applewood.”
“I know.”Dammit. I take a deep drink to get the taste of my foot out of my mouth. Might as well come right out and tell the man I came to see him. “I mean, I already checked.”
“And you decided to visit me instead?”
“To see how things are faring with your Unseelie.” That sounded convincing, right?
He snags the bottle and swallows two large gulps. “She is . . . away. On a trip.”
I didn’t realize the Unseelie did much traveling. “When will she be back?”
“In three days.”
Good. I’m glad she’s gone. Otherwise, he’d be off in the Unseelie lands wooing someone else. This calls for more wine—a celebration. I motion for the bottle and take another deep drink. “You must be anxious for her to return.”
The sunlight catches his hair just so, making the silky black strands appear almost blue. “You have many questions this day.”
“Sorry. I’m just interested in knowing whether or not my advice works because...” Because I’m hoping it doesn’t so that she won’t fall for you.
Can’t say that, can I?
“Because I’m thinking of writing a book.”
Someone please take my tongue from me. I don’t deserve to speak any longer. This lie calls for more wine. Immediately. Not one sip but two.
“I will read this book,” he announces with a bob of his head.
“You won’t need to. You’ll already be happily mated.” And I’ll be here, drowning on my own.
Brilliant. Now I’m sad.
That’s what they should name this brand instead of Mountain Pass: Sad Wine.
Maddox takes the Sad Wine for himself, muttering over the top of the bottle. “Or she will reject me, and I will be alone until the end of my days.”
Sad wine, indeed. “If it doesn’t work out with her, I’ve a feeling you’ll be snapped up faster than a . . .” Than a what? All I can think of are sad things.
