I grin as Rowan steps behind the bar. “So, we going to stick to tequila?”
“Maybe just a beer?”
“You got it.”
I look around the place as he pours from the tap, glancing at the walls of the place, festooned with signs and memorabilia for the Red Sox and the Patriots.
“That’s five bucks.”
“Huh?” I whirl back as he slides the beer in front of me. “Oh, um.” I frown, my hand reaching for the purse I know I didn’t bring.
“Jesus, I’m, kidding. Lighten up, Bible-thumper.”
“I’m not a Bible-thumper, jerk.” I stick my tongue out at him as I pick up the beer. “Sláinte.”
Rowan grins. “Well well, look who’s got the steel trap memory! Sláinte.”
He clinks his bottle to my glass.
“Well, just goes to prove that I’m a good student.”
“Or you’ve got a great teacher.”
I blush crimson, looking down into my beer.
“That’s why you’re here, right?”
I freeze before shaking my head. “No.”
“Liar.”
I glare up at him, only to see him grinning.
“Here,” he jerks his head. “Come back here.”
“What?”
“Come behind the bar.”
“Why?”
He leans forward, his eyes locking on mine flashing something fierce. “Because I’m going to teach you something.”
I shiver, my eyes darting across his.
“What,” I say quietly.
“Come back here and find out.”
I chew on my lip, playing with the coaster under my beer before I finally nod. “Okay,” I shrug, slipping off the stool. “Fine.”
He grins, watching me walk around before I dip under the far end and join him.
“Step into my office.”
I laugh, but the laugh catches as he moves closer.
“I’m going to teach you something now.”
I take a shaky breath, glancing up at him. “Oh?”
“Mhmm.”
He steps closer and leans closer. “Something you’re going to love.”
My breath is coming faster, hitching in my throat. And he’s so close — so close that we’re almost touching.
“And what’s that?”
“Trust me,” he whispers in my ear.
I nod, my heart pounding.
Rowan reaches past me, his arm brushing mine, before he suddenly pulls it back.
I frown. “What’s that?”
He grins. “This is Orange Curacao.” He holds up his other hand. “This is a lime.” He places them both on the bar and reaches past me again.
“And this is tequila.”
I stare at him and his grin only widens. “Beer isn’t your drink. We’re going to make a better one.”
He teased me, and he knows it. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“Stand here.”
I nod, taking my place facing the bar with him behind me. Step by step, he shows me how to pour, how to count the seconds, how to squeeze the lime, his finger lacing over mine. A squirt gets in my eye, and I laugh, almost dropping the whole thing as his rumbling laugh comes from behind me.
“I gotcha.”
A hand holding a bar napkin dabs at my squinting face.
“All right, now ice.”
I fill the shaker with ice.
“Cap it. Good, now shake.”
I make a face as I attempt the most awkward shake of the can ever, mostly just moving it back and forth across the bar top.
“Whoa, yeah, no.”
I turn. “What?”
“’What’ is you look like you’re jerking a…never mind.”
He grins. “Here.” He takes the shaker from my hand and raises it with one hand above his head.
“Like this.”
His forearm ripples, bicep flexing as he shakes the drink vigorously, the ice ratcheting back and forth inside the metal shaker.
His eyes never leave mine.
He grabs a glass, squeezes the rest of the lime around the edge, and dips it in a tray.
“Sugar?”
“Salt.”
I scrunch up my face.
“Trust me,” his voice husks in my ear again.
The drink fills the glass with greenish golden liquid and I smile as he slides it my way.
“Viola. Margarita. Go ahead.”
“Just drink it?”
“Hey, you made it. See if you’re any good.”
I roll my eyes as I pick up the glass and eye the salt warily.
“Just try it.”
I slowly bring it to my lips and…
Whoa.
WOAH.
“Okay, that is delicious.”
He grins. “Good job.”
“Sláinte,” I clink my class to his beer.
He laughs. “Guess you’re a good learner.”
“Guess you’re a good teacher.”
We both freeze and he grins. “And we’re back to that.”