Page 9 of Snow Harm, No Foul

Regardless of the answer, I don’t release her. I tighten my hold and lean as close to her as I can with the table between us.

“Tell me what he said so I can tell you he’s wrong.”

Her throat works with a swallow. “He wasn’t wrong about everything.”

“Explain it to me.”

“Are you sure? We only have an hour.”

I almost laugh, but I trap it beneath a few lowly spoken words. “We have as much time as we need.”

She still doesn’t believe me. I can see it in every twitch of her mouth and the tapping of her finger against my palm.

“Do you like beer?” I ask.

Blinking away her confusion, she shakes her head just once. “No.”

I only asked to be polite, but I’m glad I did. I’ve seen her drink it on occasion with Travis, but I hide my confusion behind a blank stare.

“What do you like?”

“Daiquiris.”

I give her hand a squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” she asks quickly, her hand hanging suspended in the air for a moment before she brings it to her lap.

“To make you a drink, Ivy. You’re welcome to watch.”

“You know how to make a daiquiri?”

A laugh bangs at my chest but doesn’t escape. “I’m a bartender.”

“Right,” she whispers, chest flushing above the struggling top button of her blouse.

I leave her there before I give in to my impulses and tug at the fabric to encourage it to open. A flash of her cleavage would bring me to my knees faster than a kick to the balls.

Matty is filling a glass with whiskey when I slide behind the bar and get to work on Ivy’s drink.

“What are you making?” he asks once I’ve added ice to the blender.

“Don’t you have work to do?” I grunt.

“Nah, not right now.”

“Find some.”

He chuckles. “But this is far more entertaining.”

I crouch and open the small freezer beneath the bar to grab a bag of frozen strawberries. They go in with the ice.

“Make yourself useful, then, and get me the rum and syrup. The top-shelf shit.”

“You got it.”

When he sets them in front of me, I don’t bother with measuring before pouring in the right amounts of each of the liquids. I add lime juice and then turn the blender on.

Matty stares at me with an annoying smile as I scowl and wait for the blender to finish. He doesn’t look away the entire time, and the moment I flick off the blender and silence falls again, he’s filling it with his voice.

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