Page 27 of Catching Sparks

“I can handle it.”

“Then you have a deal, Poppy.”

My smile is wide enough my cheeks pinch as I grab my shot and set it against my lips. “On three?”

“Three,” he says before tipping the shot into his mouth.

I quickly do the same, glaring at him as I swallow. “Cheater.”

“We weren’t competing.”

“Maybe we were.”

“Then I won.”

I set my glass on the bar. “By cheating.”

“We never discussed the rules.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re about to have a real drink,” he muses before waving Pamila down and ordering two shots of a brand of whiskey I’ve never heard of yet somehow Peakside has stock of.

“Have you always had expensive taste?”

“How do you know what I’ve ordered is expensive?”

I tilt my head and lift my brows. “Don’t play coy. It doesn’t suit you.”

Again, that chuckle escapes him. “Yes, in a way, I suppose I’ve always had expensive tastes.”

“I grew up on KD and hot dogs until I was a teenager.”

“Only until you were a teen?”

Pamila hands over our shots, and Garrison pays again before shifting one toward me. I lift it to my mouth, holding it there.

“You’ll need to buy me a few more drinks to get that sort of information from me, Garry.” I emphasize the new nickname, testing his reaction to it.

When he shoots back the shot instead of replying, I take that as reaction enough. He swallows the amber liquid easily, without any sign of struggle. Myself, on the other hand, I gag the instant it touches the back of my throat.

“That is fucking vile,” I curse, jabbing my tongue out as I choke.

Garrison rubs his lips together, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches me struggle for a beat more before demanding a glass of water from Pamila. There are tears in my eyes when I take it from his offered hand and drain it in one go.

“You said you could handle it,” he muses, hovering so damn close I would have shoved him back had I not wanted to bunch my fingers in his shirt and drag me right on top of me.

“I was wrong. Very, very wrong.” I’d have been scrubbing my tongue clean if I were alone.

“This explains the apple pie shot.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Slow down. I will have you know that I can take a tequila shot like nobody’s business. But that? That is poison.”

A crack of a grin shows on his face, and I go still, the warmth of the alcohol in my blood setting a match to the lingering desire I’ve been trying to forget. Fuck, he’s handsome. A powerhouse of a man that both infuriates me and turns my knees to jelly.

“Would you like another one of your drinks, then? Help wash down the poison?” he asks, eyes trailing over every inch of my face.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I ask, brow twitching.

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