I watch him while I nibble on the corner of the sandwich. It’s just turkey and swiss with some spicy mustard, but it’s surprisingly delicious. On a wide tray, he has a couple of glasses, a full bottle of whiskey, two cans of cola, and a bowl of ice. He mixes two drinks as expertly as he did earlier today and hands one to me, but mine isn’t quite as strong as his. I’m thankful.
He rejoins me, holding his sandwich out to bump mine in a toast before taking a big bite of it. “To one hell of a birthday,” he jokes around a mouthful.
“Is it still your birthday? I have no idea what time it is.”
“Yeah. About thirty minutes left of it. Thank God it’s almost over. I think I’ll spend the next one in a foreign country where no one can find me.”
I swallow the last bite and take a sip to wash it down. “You mean your mother.”
He sighs. “Yeah.” Finishing his sandwich, too, he grabs his drink and gulps it down. I’m immediately sorry I brought her up.
“Sorry.”
“It is what it is.” He refills his glass with straight whiskey this time. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. I need to learn to think before I speak.
Clearly needing to lighten the mood, I grab his glass and set it on the side. “So, birthday boy . . . did you even get to blow out your candles and make a wish?”
“No. I’ll go get you some of the cake if you want it though.” He reaches across me for his glass, but I grab his wrist and hold onto it until I turn to kneel in my seat, facing him.
“Come on. You have to make a birthday wish before time runs out.” I make a fist but hold up my index finger. “Pretend this is your candle. Go.”
“Callie, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. If you don’t make a birthday wish, I’ll make one for you. And you’ll regret that when you wake up three inches shorter in the morning. And I don’t mean your height.”
He snickers, and his eyes glimmer in the soft light. “I wouldn’t want that. Three inches less would make me a chick.”
“I have no shame in admitting that I checked you out earlier. I seriously doubt three inches would do much damage to your current stock. I can double the wish if your pride needs a more serious hit.”
“I know you were looking.” He grins, angling his body toward me. “But, fine. You win. I’ll make a wish.”
I hold my finger out between us again, and he closes his eyes tight, really laying the dramatics on thick. When he opens them again, he looks . . . smug. Devious. “There. Wish made.”
“Good.” I begin to drop my hand, but he grabs it.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what my wish was?”
“No. That’s against the rules. You’re not supposed to say or it won’t come true. Everybody knows that.”
He pulls my arm until I’m against him, dragging me over until I’m sitting sideways in his lap. “I’ll show you then.” Wes slides his hands up my wet arms to my shoulders and coaxes me toward him until we’re barely an inch apart.
My brain gave up the moment he said he’d show me, so I have no reasonable thoughts of rejection forming. Just pure, yielding approval fostered by my clearly intoxicated hormones. “Showing is always more fun than telling, anyway,” I whisper against his lips.
He leans in and crushes his mouth to mine. One arm snakes around my back, urging me closer, while one hand fists in my wet, tangled hair. The scalding bubbles tickling at my sides are only a whisper of warmth compared to the heat I feel from his bare skin against mine.
And that kiss? Oh, what a perfect oblivion it is. It’s a kiss that makes me forget yesterday’s drama of breaking up with Tanner. A kiss that forces away the memory of Jake, the sickening taste of beer, and the anger left behind. A kiss that fills me with only gentle unspoken trust and a hint of sweet whiskey.
I was wrong earlier. This is perfect serenity.
OH, WHAT KIND of hell is this?
The light streaming through the windows only amplifies the pounding in my temples, and each footstep going down the stairs sounds more like a sledge hammer connecting with the wall over my head. I want to crawl under a rock somewhere and die. I knew it would be like this, but I continued to drink anyway, like a great big idiot. And then, I only made things worse by drinking whiskey with Wes.
Oh, yeah. Almost forgot about that. That’s probably why I have this funky taste in my mouth. Deciding I’ll feel better if I clean myself up a bit, I grab my bag and carefully head into the bathroom, lazily stripping out of my clothes and laughing at myself when I notice I’m still wearing my bikini.