Now I’m going to blow this fragile peace all to hell.
I smile at the elderly bartender. She’s a tiny Black woman who’s mostly bald, except for a tuff of gray hair hovering around her head like a stormy cloud. She glares at me. “Well? What do you want?”
“I like her already,” I whisper to Shiloh.
“I’m old, but I hear just fine.” She snaps gnarled fingers at me. “Order or get out.”
“Three shots of tequila. Each.”
“Monroe.”
The old woman cackles. “Guess you’re not so worthless, after all.” She grabs a bottle of tequila and pours six messy shots while Shiloh looks on in horror.
“You drink,” I remind her.
“A beer is not three shots of tequila.”
“Aw, love.” I bump my shoulder against hers. “This is just the appetizer. I said we’re going to make it count, and we will.”
She looks like she wants to argue but finally sighs. “Either Maddox or someone will be here to pick us up in exactly an hour. Don’t get any funny ideas.”
“I’m full of funny ideas.” I nudge three of the shot glasses in her direction and pick up my first one. “Here’s to the heat. Not the heat that brings down barns and shanties, but the heat that brings down bras and panties.” I down my shot to the sound of the bartender laughing.
Shiloh takes her shot without so much as a wince. I knew I liked this woman. She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible toast.”
“Do me one better.”
“I will.” She licks her lips and picks up the second shot. “May you work like you don’t need the money, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like no one is watching, screw like it’s being filmed, and drink like a true Irishman.”
I snort and take my shot. The tequila burns all the way down. There was a time I could hold my own with any fraternity boy, but I stopped drinking foolishly years ago. Being the heir to the Amazon faction means putting aside anything resembling weakness, and too much alcohol is exactly that. A weakness. Not that it matters now. I might still be the heir, but I’m also a glorified prisoner.
I clear my throat, not liking the direction of my thoughts. “That was poetic, love. Are you Irish? They always get poetic when they drink.”
“No.” She shrugs. “It's a toast Iris gives when she’s feeling nostalgic.” Shiloh makes a face at the third shot. “My parents would hate toasts like this, even if we were Irish. Far too crass for them.”
It’s the tiniest nugget of information, the smallest of cracks I fully intend to worm through. I run the tip of my finger along my shot glass, biting back a smile when Shiloh follows the movement. “Uptight, were they?”
“Fanatically religious, I’m afraid.” Her generous mouth turns down, her gaze going somewhere dark.
Can’t have that. Her lips were made for smiling, not frowning. Impossible to seduce a pretty woman when she’s thinking sad thoughts. I pause. Well, shit. I only get like this when I’m feeling tipsy. “It’s entirely possible that I’m a little drunk.” Whoops.
Shiloh giggles. Giggles. “It’s entirely possible that I am, too.” She grins at me, firmly back in the present. “Well, go on. Can you beat that toast?”
“Of course I can.” I lift my glass and hold her gaze. “To the kisses we’ve snatched, and vice versa.”
We take the shots, and Shiloh sets hers down with a clink. “Monroe, you’ve got a positively wicked mouth.”
“I know.” I grin at her. “I’d love to show it to you sometime.”
Pink steals across Shiloh’s face. “You’re Broderick’s Bride.”
“That’s not a no.” I reach up and brush my thumb over her skin, alcohol and lust making me even bolder than normal. The pink beneath her skin gets more intense. “I bet you blush all over your body, don’t you?”
“Monroe,” she says it like she’s pleading with me, but she leans in a little, pressing her cheek into the palm of my hand. “Bride.”
“You know as well as I do that this handfasting doesn’t mean a damn thing beyond politics.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my tone, but alcohol loosens my tongue too thoroughly.
“Still…”
I can’t stop staring at her mouth. I hadn’t mean to actually get tipsy—or even to get her tipsy. I simply thought a change of pace would be enough to get things rolling. Apparently I underestimated tequila. Too late to go back now. “I would really like to kiss you.”
“We shouldn’t.” She licks her lips. “But, uh, I’d really like you to kiss me. Just this once.”
Just this once? Over my dead body.
“Hey, Grandmother.” I speak without looking away from Shiloh’s pretty face. “You have somewhere around here where we can have a private conversation?
The old woman snorts. “Don’t try to butter me up now, blondie.”
I dig out my wallet and throw far too much cash onto the bar, alcohol and desire making my hands clumsy. “How about now?”
She eyes the cash and jerks her thumb toward a tiny door in the back corner. “Employee bathroom. Key is on a hook next to the door. Do not fuck up my space.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grab Shiloh’s hand. “Just this once,” I lie.
“Just this once.” She lets me tow her around the bar and back to the narrow door. I find the key and unlock it, and then we’re through. The room is tiny, barely large enough for a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. It’s perfect.
Shiloh pulls the door shut behind her. She blinks those big eyes at me. “This changes nothing.”
“Of course.” Another lie. I know myself well enough to recognize that one taste of this woman won’t be nearly enough. Knowing that touching her will drive Broderick out of his fucking mind is only part of the attraction. The truth is that she’s grown on me, and I want to find out if I was right that first night, if she tastes as sweet as she looks.
Shiloh doesn’t hesitate. She sinks her fingers into my hair and kisses me. She tastes like tequila and goes to my head twice as fast. I grab her hips and push her back against the door. It’s supposed to be a smooth move, but I stagger a little, and she ends up straddling my thigh.
Well, this works even better.
I nip her bottom lip, loving the way she shivers as she starts rocking against my leg. There are too many layers between us. I start to go to my knees, but she tightens her grip on my hair. “No.”
“No?” My voice is on the far side of raspy.
“The pants stay on.” She drags in a shuddering breath. “They stay buttoned.”
“Okay, love. They stay on and buttoned.” I drag my hands down her back, enjoying the way her lean muscles flex in response, and grab her ass. She’s smaller through the breasts and hips than I am, but not by much. I haven’t seen Shiloh fight, but from the way she moves and how deceptively muscular she is, I bet she’s a scrapper. “Do you really think I need to touch your skin to make you come?”
“No?”
I pause. “Is that an answer to my question, or are you telling me to stop?”