Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
I grin, sliding the glass closer to her. "Taste it, Calamity."
"Really?" Her eyes widen before she grabs it like she thinks I'm going to change my mind. But hell, she's old enough to drink. If she wants to know, I'm not going to stop her. I'd rather she do it here with me than in some goddamn bar full of assholes I might have to kill later.
I watch with a smirk as she sniffs it, her nose scrunching again. But she takes a tentative sip anyway. Surprise flares in her eyes before she licks her lip and then empties my glass without missing a beat.
"That's good. Strong," she says, setting the empty glass on the table. "Can I have more?"
"Jesus Christ," Wade mutters, hiding his face behind his hand.
Bishop just grins at her, reaching for the bottle.
"Don't you dare," I growl, my eyes narrowed on him.
"Why the fuck not? It's not like a shot will hurt her."
"Yeah," she says, poking me in the ribs. "It's not like a shot will hurt me."
"Baby, you're wild enough when you're sober. Keeping up with you drunk is going to shave years off my life." That's not an exaggeration. Keeping up with her when she's stone cold sober is a full-time job.
"Chicken," she breathes, grinning at me.
I know what she's doing, and I'm not falling for it.
"I bet I can outdrink you."
"The hell you can," I growl.
"Want to bet?"
"I do," Bishop says, raising one big hand in the air, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
I flip him off. "I'm not betting you that I can outdrink you, Calamity."
"You aren't. You're accepting that I can outdrink you." She flashes me a grin, her arms crossed. "Unless you're scared that I'll beat you."
Goddammit.
"Never going to happen," I mutter.
"Prove it," Wade says. I shoot him a death glare, but he just grins at me. "What's the worst that can happen, Blaze? She's safe with us. If she wants to get wasted, let her." He shrugs. "She'll have a roaring hangover tomorrow, and that'll be that."
"I will not have a hangover," she grumbles.
"Yeah, you will." I shake my head, motioning for Bishop to pass me the bottle. "But it's your choice, Calamity. If you want to get whiskey wasted and wake up hating life tomorrow, knock yourself out."
"Are you going to drink with me?"
"I'm not taking your bet, baby." I've been drinking a helluva lot longer than she has. On a ranch, there isn't much to do some days except drink and play poker. I fight dirty, but not this dirty.
She pouts at me, her bottom lip out. And I damn near give in, just because I can't resist that look.
"I'll take it," Bishop says. I whip my head in his direction, threatening to murder him with my eyes, but he pretends not to see me, his eyes locked on her. "What's the wager, Calamity?"
She taps her bottom lip, thinking about it. "Five dollars."
"Hell no," Wade laughs. "If we outdrink you, we get to teach you to ride."
"A bull?" she asks, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.
"Jesus Christ," I groan, tipping my head back. She's scared of my horse, but wants to ride a bull. I'm not going to make it to sixty. I damn well know I'm not.
"Horse," Wade says. "You live on a ranch now. You should know how to ride."
"Can it be Jon Bon Pony?" she asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Sure," I say when Wade looks to me for approval, not because I want her doing this, but because she needs to learn to ride, and there are no better teachers on this ranch than the two men sitting at this table with us. If anyone can help her get over her fear of horses, it's them. It damn sure isn't me. Just the thought of trying to teach her to ride gives me anxiety.
"I guess I'll take that wager," she says, "but only because I'm not going to lose."
Bishop fights a smile. "Then let's do this."
"Wait!" she cries, throwing up her hand. "What about when I win?"
He and Wade share a look that says there isn't a chance in hell of that happening, but Bishop shrugs. "Name your wager."
"When I win…" she says slowly, "the two of you have to agree to do me a favor. Any favor I want, whenever I ask for it."
"Hell no," I growl, killing that idea. God only knows what she'd ask for. The possibilities are literally endless with her, and Hudson might kill us all if she gets Bishop and Wade arrested for whatever madness she'll try to drag them into. And I know she'll try. Chaos follows in her wake like it's her damn shadow.
"Well, you're no fun," she grumbles at me.
"It's not like she's going to win, brother," Wade reminds me.