Page 77 of Daddy's Wild Girl

“It’s a Jellybean Sparkle martini.” The drink was glittery pink because Churchill swirled edible glitter around the inside of the glass. Then he mixed up ouzo, raspberry syrup, and Sprite andpoured it in. Finally, he topped it with a healthy dollop of Cool Whip and a bunch of pink and black jellybeans.

“It’s freaking heaven on earth.”

“I thought your favorite alcoholic drink was beer,” Corbin said, watching as she took a sip.

A sigh of pleasure left her lips. “Nope. Beer is good for day-to-day stuff. But when you need a drink to lift your mood and make you smile, it’s a jellybean sparkle to the rescue.”

20

God. Her smile.

She looked so happy. Had he ever seen her look that happy before?

And over a damn cocktail. It was a ridiculous-looking cocktail. Way too much sugar. More than he’d ever let her have if she was his . . .

But she’s not.

So chill.

And besides, if it brought that smile to her face . . . well, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to make her happy.

Fuck.

He was really falling for this girl.

But could it ever work between them?

“How often do you need to come here to cheer up?” he murmured.

“Only about once a week now. Used to be every night for a while there. It was the only thing that got me through the day. That and therapy.”

Jesus.

Talk about a punch to the stomach.

He couldn’t breathe, thinking about what sort of pain she had to be in that she needed to come here to have a ridiculous drink that made her smile.

He wanted to ask her more, but this wasn’t the place. It was loud, but that didn’t mean that people couldn’t listen in on their conversation. He felt the old guy a few stools away lean in.

So, asking her about that would have to happen another day.

“I’m going to scope out the place,” Hayes said. “You got her?”

“Yep. Got her.” Corbin gave the man a nod before he slid away into the crowd. “There’s a lot of people here for a pub that doesn’t advertise.”

“Well, not every bar grants wishes,” she replied, turning with her drink in her hand. She moved her mouth to take a bite of Cool Whip. When she glanced back up at him, she had a white mustache.

He couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. Reaching out, he wiped it off her lip and then brought his finger to his mouth, sucking it clean.

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as she stared up at him. And he knew then that he was going to lean in and kiss her.

It was inevitable.

It was fate.

Until someone jostled into him from behind. He turned with a snarl, and the guy behind him quickly held up his hands.

“Sorry, mate,” he said with an accent. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Hey, there, Bebe. You all right, love?”

---