“You’re the best,” I announce, taking a long sip of the sweet, frozen goodness. “Oh my God, that’s so good.”
“Isn’t it?” she asks, leaning against the bar. “It’s strong too. I threw in an extra shot of tequila.”
“You’re a godsend,” I mutter before taking another drink.
“And the fruit is soaked in tequila.”
My eyes widen. “Seriously?”
Lizzie winks and offers a smile.
Collin places a glass of ice water beside my coaster before turning to help other customers. The bar isn’t too busy, but there has definitely been an uptick in patrons since Lizzie took over and made her upgrades. Sure, the regulars are still at the opposite end of the bar, but there’s now a handful of tables in use, as well as a few seats filled between them and me.
The door opens behind me, but I keep my focus on the fruity concoction in my glass. I already know who has arrived. It’s as if I can sense them, even without seeing either one. The barstool directly to my right is pulled out as my brother slides onto the seat. “Is that one of her non-alcoholic drinks?”
“Nope. This one is fully loaded,” I tell him, grabbing the pick and examining the fruit slice.
“Ahh, bad day?” Camden asks.
“Rough week,” I mutter as the stool to my left is moved.
Quinn slides onto the stool, his arm brushing against mine as he sits, sending a wave of goosebumps across my flesh.
Well, that was weird.
It must be cold in here.
Good thing I have this margarita to help warm me up.
I bend forward and take a bite of the peach. The tequila is rich, smooth, and complements the sweet fruit perfectly. “Damn, she’s a fucking genius,” I mumble to myself, biting off the rest of the peach and chewing.
Before I can say a word, Quinn reaches over and grabs my glass. My eyes narrow as he takes a sip of the peach drink, making a face as he replaces it in front of me. “Is that sugar?”
“Yes,” I confirm hastily, reaching for the glass and wiping off his lip print. “Do you just take anyone’s drink?”
He smirks at me, those very lips imprinted on my glass now on full kissable display. “You’re not just anyone, Cactus.”
First off…WHAT. THE. FUCK?
Kissable lips?
No, no, they are not. Quinn’s mouth is most definitely not kissable in any way.
“Cactus?” I ask, my blue eyes narrowing into little slits.
“Yep. You’re kinda pretty to look at but prickly as hell, and no doubt will stab me when I get too close.”
I bark out a laugh as Collin walks over. “What can I get you two?” he asks Camden and Quinn, dropping coasters in front of them.
“Night Crüe draft, please,” Camden states.
Quinn adds, “Same.”
The oldest Miller sibling turns to pour two beers in frosted mugs, and while Camden and Quinn talk around me—since I’m sitting directly between them—I try to focus ahead and on my drink. Not that I don’t enjoy engaging in conversation withthem, but I still can’t get over the fact I noticed how kissable Quinn’s lips were.
How in the hell did that happen?
Quinn has been a part of my family for almost as long as Camden has. They became friends in kindergarten, and things quickly evolved into a deep friendship. I don’t recall a lot of detail about those early days, but to hear my mom talk, she started giving him rides home after school, which turned into Q just staying with us until his mom got off work. Over the years, Quinn would be wherever Camden was, and even though it was annoying at times, it was just how it was. He was a part of the family, like another younger brother.
