Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Taking it, I licked my lips, then took a small sip. It was nice. Nothing like the red I’d tried once. It had a crisp, fruity taste that wasn’t too sweet.
I nodded. “I like that.”
He read the label. “That’s a medium blend,” he told me. “You might not like the dry or sweeter ones.”
He slid the white wine over to me.
Taking a sip of it, I decided the rosé was my favorite. I pointed at the other glass. “That one for sure.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out two wine bottle corks with crystal decoration at the top and closed both of them before putting them in the fridge.
“I’m assuming you’ve had champagne,” he said, glancing back at me.
I nodded. “It’s okay. I like the sweeter ones. Prosecco. But we don’t need to try it.”
He went over to the small area that I believed my mother had once called a butler’s pantry and came back out, carrying two bottles. He set them in front of me. “I’m not a drink mixer. But I know that girls tend to mix vodka with cranberry juice or sparkling water.” Then he held up the other bottle. “I grabbed the whiskey because the gin was intimidating. I have no idea what to mix with it.”
Smiling, I pointed at the whiskey. “I think I mentioned before that I don’t much care for whiskey,” I reminded him. “I’ve tried Jack and Coke.”
The horrified look on his face told me I’d said something offensive.
“This is not Jack Daniel’s, Pickles. Never mix this with anything. Ever. And no fucking wonder you don’t like whiskey.”
“It’s Calvin’s drink of choice,” I explained.
Forge winced. “It’s like he and I aren’t related at all,” he muttered. “Let’s start with this. If you hate it, you can wash it down with a cranberry vodka.”
“I like vodka,” I told him. “I think that is what is in, uh, lemon drops.”
He nodded. “Most likely. Never had one, but sounds about right.”
I waited while he put ice in a different glass and then filled it with the smallest amount of the amber liquid.
“This is the smoothest whiskey the Carvers make. It’s lighter, and it has a sweeter burn.”
I picked it up and smelled it first. That was nice. My eyes lifted to meet Forge’s. No longer nervous to take a drink, I tried it, and he was right about the burn. There was one as it went down, but it wasn’t bad.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I like that.”
He chuckled. “Better than the rosé?”
I thought about it, then nodded.
“Then we will take the bottle. I normally drink something a little stronger, but this will work.”
A chime rang through the house, and I recognized it as someone being at the front gate. It had taken getting used to, but I no longer paid attention to it.
He checked his phone, and I knew they could all see who was at the gate from an app on their phones. “Food is here,” he said. “I’ll get that basket, and you want to pack it with the other things we need?”
I nodded, standing up. “I can find the basket. You go on and get the food.”
He picked up the glass of whiskey and drank the rest in one gulp. “All right. Pack us two glasses too.”
“Okay,” I replied, then watched him go before heading to the pantry to find all the things we needed.
As I passed a mirror on the wall, I saw the smile on my face and paused to stare at myself. I barely recognized that girl. It had been so long since she had looked … happy.
Thirty-Five
Forge
I was completely captivated by the sight of Elsie’s head thrown back as her musical laughter filled the early evening air around us. Having her covered in my hoodie was actually fucking with me more than the shirt she had on under it. Her cleavage might not be visible, but the image of her tits was seared into my brain.
“I tell you my most embarrassing moment, and you laugh at me?” I teased her.
I’d expected her to get a kick out of it. Although I hadn’t thought that the story about how she’d believed Calvin was going to ask her to prom was embarrassing, I knew she did. So, I had pulled out something that might make her feel better about sharing it with me. Level the field for her or whatever.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, covering her mouth as she stared at me with those incredible eyes, still dancing with amusement. “I shouldn’t laugh.”
I smirked. “It was fucking funny.”
She nodded, then snickered behind her hand.
“Okay,” she said, dropping her hand and trying to compose herself. “I have to know what she did then.”
I picked up my glass and took a drink. “She screamed, ‘Oh my God,’ and then some got into her mouth, and she wiped at it frantically,” I told her. “But being a gentleman, I took my shirt off and started to clean her face the best I could. It was dark in the back seat, and I was still coming off my high.”