stomach, followed by disappointment and fury.
“With a twist of lime,” Simone added.
“How many has he had?”
“That’s his second.”
“Thanks.” She hadn’t meant it as gratitude but said it so Simone wouldn’t stand around and wait for her to continue talking.
It wasn’t Simone’s fault. Simone had no idea of his former condition, and it wasn’t Winona’s place to tell.
She stood there a moment, letting the anger wash over her and hoping it would fade. But it didn’t. She took a deep breath and marched over, grabbing the glass from the table. His head snapped up. His eyes narrowed when he saw her.
“Hey,” he said.
“What are you doing?”
“Having a drink. Isn’t that what most people do in this bar?”
“Most people in this bar probably aren’t recovering alcoholics.”
“Well, most of them probably aren’t in mourning, either.”
Winona slid onto the seat opposite him. “We’re all in mourning for something. The true test of life is how we handle it and get over it.”
“I’m tired of being tested. One drink won’t hurt.”
“I know for a fact it’s at least your second drink. And one is all you need to fall off the wagon. Is this how you want to celebrate your cousin’s memory?”
Jake clenched his jaw but didn’t reply. His eyes turned glacial and he glared, nose flaring, as she sipped his drink.
“Besides,” she said as she scrunched her face at the taste of the harsh liquid, “this drink could count as four by most people’s standards.”
He didn’t reply. She knocked back the rest of the drink and slammed the glass on the table before meeting his glare. Fire burned behind her eyes, but she didn’t blink.
“Go ahead,” he finally said. “Rub it in. I’m a loser. I can’t drink, but you can. I can’t handle it, but you can.”
“I never thought you were a loser. I just think you’re down on your luck and having a pity party.”
“Maybe I am having a pity party. What’s wrong with that?”
“Take it from me. A pity party is not something you should do alone. And definitely not something you should do with alcohol.”
“I’m not alone now, am I?”
Winona kept her gaze on him. His eyes were steady as he returned her glare. His mouth slightly rose as if he had his own inner joke. Warmth pooled in her limbs.
“Well, if you’re going to feel sorry for yourself, let’s go back to my place,” Winona said before having a chance to think about those consequences. And now that she’d said it, the consequences didn’t seem so bad.
“And do what?”
“Have a pity party together. I don’t know. Play Monopoly. Watch a movie. Fuck.”
She knew she’d shocked him by the way his eyes flickered and his forehead crinkled. He glanced down a moment and when his gaze slid back to meet hers, his was steady, tantalizing, hungry.
“Okay.” He stood and laid two twenties on the table. “I trust the bartender will take care of this,” he said.
Trembling, she picked up the twenties and signaled Simone. Simone came around and asked, “Do you need change?”
“No.”
“That’s way too much money,” Winona said as Simone nodded her thanks and walked away.
Jake shrugged and planted his hands on the small of Winona’s back.
“I’m gone for the day,” Winona called to Simone, her skin burning at Jake’s touch. Fire feasted in her belly, her thighs trembling as she walked to the door. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex, much less at three o’clock in the afternoon.
Her eyes swept the room, observing who might be observing her. She tried to look inconspicuous as she left, throwing one last glance behind her to see if Simone was paying attention. Thank God she was talking to a customer and had no idea what was going on in Winona’s world right now. If she did, she’d probably tell Chayton, and Chayton would throw a fit. Hell, Winona wouldn’t be surprised if he stormed over later
“With a twist of lime,” Simone added.
“How many has he had?”
“That’s his second.”
“Thanks.” She hadn’t meant it as gratitude but said it so Simone wouldn’t stand around and wait for her to continue talking.
It wasn’t Simone’s fault. Simone had no idea of his former condition, and it wasn’t Winona’s place to tell.
She stood there a moment, letting the anger wash over her and hoping it would fade. But it didn’t. She took a deep breath and marched over, grabbing the glass from the table. His head snapped up. His eyes narrowed when he saw her.
“Hey,” he said.
“What are you doing?”
“Having a drink. Isn’t that what most people do in this bar?”
“Most people in this bar probably aren’t recovering alcoholics.”
“Well, most of them probably aren’t in mourning, either.”
Winona slid onto the seat opposite him. “We’re all in mourning for something. The true test of life is how we handle it and get over it.”
“I’m tired of being tested. One drink won’t hurt.”
“I know for a fact it’s at least your second drink. And one is all you need to fall off the wagon. Is this how you want to celebrate your cousin’s memory?”
Jake clenched his jaw but didn’t reply. His eyes turned glacial and he glared, nose flaring, as she sipped his drink.
“Besides,” she said as she scrunched her face at the taste of the harsh liquid, “this drink could count as four by most people’s standards.”
He didn’t reply. She knocked back the rest of the drink and slammed the glass on the table before meeting his glare. Fire burned behind her eyes, but she didn’t blink.
“Go ahead,” he finally said. “Rub it in. I’m a loser. I can’t drink, but you can. I can’t handle it, but you can.”
“I never thought you were a loser. I just think you’re down on your luck and having a pity party.”
“Maybe I am having a pity party. What’s wrong with that?”
“Take it from me. A pity party is not something you should do alone. And definitely not something you should do with alcohol.”
“I’m not alone now, am I?”
Winona kept her gaze on him. His eyes were steady as he returned her glare. His mouth slightly rose as if he had his own inner joke. Warmth pooled in her limbs.
“Well, if you’re going to feel sorry for yourself, let’s go back to my place,” Winona said before having a chance to think about those consequences. And now that she’d said it, the consequences didn’t seem so bad.
“And do what?”
“Have a pity party together. I don’t know. Play Monopoly. Watch a movie. Fuck.”
She knew she’d shocked him by the way his eyes flickered and his forehead crinkled. He glanced down a moment and when his gaze slid back to meet hers, his was steady, tantalizing, hungry.
“Okay.” He stood and laid two twenties on the table. “I trust the bartender will take care of this,” he said.
Trembling, she picked up the twenties and signaled Simone. Simone came around and asked, “Do you need change?”
“No.”
“That’s way too much money,” Winona said as Simone nodded her thanks and walked away.
Jake shrugged and planted his hands on the small of Winona’s back.
“I’m gone for the day,” Winona called to Simone, her skin burning at Jake’s touch. Fire feasted in her belly, her thighs trembling as she walked to the door. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex, much less at three o’clock in the afternoon.
Her eyes swept the room, observing who might be observing her. She tried to look inconspicuous as she left, throwing one last glance behind her to see if Simone was paying attention. Thank God she was talking to a customer and had no idea what was going on in Winona’s world right now. If she did, she’d probably tell Chayton, and Chayton would throw a fit. Hell, Winona wouldn’t be surprised if he stormed over later
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