I think I could get used to this.
“Do you want a drink?” she asks.
“God, yes,” I gasp. “So long as you’re talking about something a bit harder than fruit juice.”
She laughs. “Yeah. I’ll go get my tequila from the bookshelf.”
“Bookshelf? Tequila is a reading drink now?”
This time, she doesn’t laugh. She giggles like a teenager and flashes me that wide, beautiful smile I love to see.
“Fiona and I kept it there on a high shelf so Caleb wouldn’t find it,” she explains.
“Is that a problem?” I say with mock confusion. “I didn’t know he was old enough to drink.”
Now Lucy is laughing so hard, she can’t breathe. I’m stuck between trying to make another quirky remark to keep her giggles going and a sense of growing disbelief that she finds me so entertaining.
“Come on,” she says, taking two glasses from the cupboard and heading towards the living room. “Let’s see if you keep that quick tongue after a couple of shots.”
“Give me half a chance,” I say with a sly grin. “You might find my tongue isn’t quick at all.”
Lucy glances over her shoulder, blushing furiously. As she walks ahead of me, the scent of fresh, juicy peaches engulfs me and wipes my mind clean of every thought, save one.
Burying my mouth in that sweet aroma and lapping up every last drop of nectar I can find.
By the time we reach the living room, Lucy has regained her composure, but now I’m the one struggling. The thin nightgown frames her gorgeous curves, showing hints of dark pink skin where it pulls tight across her nipples.
She takes the bottle out from behind some books on the top shelf, then sits down on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. As I sit down, she hands me a glass with a generous splash of tequila. I slam it down in one go.
“Thirsty, huh?”
“Yeah,” I nod, trying not to stare too hard at her breasts. “And hungry.”
Lucy grins as if she’s about to make another wisecrack, but when she looks into my eyes, the humor fades. Now she looks serious, maybe even sad.
“Whatdoyou want, Peter?”
I know she’s not talking about dinner, and the question makes me freeze. I can’t answer her. I can’t even think.
“I don’t know,” I mutter, reaching for the bottle. I pour myself another shot and down it while Lucy takes a small sip from her glass and puts it on the table.
“I know I’ve said this before, maybe too many times,” she says, reaching out to take my hands. “But I am sorry for bringing you here and trapping me with the spell. I’d undo it if I could.”
I shake my head, feeling the tequila singing through my blood, loosening the words that have been stuck in my throat all day.
“Lucy… I appreciate that, I do. But I’ve been thinking. I was completely lost before I came here. I was looking for my brother, but I didn’t even know where to search. And to be completely honest, I wasn’t trying that hard.”
“Where were you before you were brought here by the spell?”
“In a bar fight,” I answer flatly. Suddenly, I don’t want any more alcohol, and I put my glass down on the table. “Probably my third fight in as many days.”
“I never even thought to ask,” Lucy says. “At least my messed-up magic didn’t interrupt anything important.”
“That’s the thing,” I say. “I haven’t been willing to admit that. I’ve been acting like I was living a great life before I came here, but I really wasn’t.”
“Okay,” she says, looking away from me. “So, you think maybe the universe was trying to help you out so you could find your brother and possibly change your life for the better?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nothing that deep. I just want to make a point that you don’t have to keep apologizing. I wasn’t prepared for this turn, but I know one thing… I don’t want to go back.”