Page 22 of Taking Chances

“I can’t drink this whole thing alone, and it’s a pity to let it go to waste.”

“Fine,” she groans. “But we should play a drinking game, then.”

Once again, my brows shoot up. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” she says, thinking for a second. “Got it! Every question you answer, you have to drink.”

My laughter breaks free. “Shouldn’t it be ‘every question you don’t answer, you drink’?”

“Typically, yes. But since the goal is to both drink this whiskey and answer a lot of questions, I think my way is better.”

“And what if someone doesn’t answer a question?” I grab a piece of cheese from the board, slowly but steadily depleting the spread.

“Then the game is done, and that person lost.” She’s adorable. Her cheeks are already pink, but she’s planning to up the stakes.

If we weren’t at her place, I would never say yes to the game. But she’s safe at home, and I’d never do anything to endanger her.

“Deal.” I put out my hand and she shakes it. A current shoots through my arm as our hands touch, her skin soft like silk.

She leaves for the kitchen again and brings back two shot glasses, putting them on the coffee table. “I don’t own whiskey glasses, so this will have to do.” Getting comfortable on the couch, she puts her legs beneath her. “Now tell me,boyfriend. What’s your family like?”

I said yes to the game. So, I guess I need to play along. “I don’t really talk to them. My father is. . . troubled. So, I decided to stop enabling his toxic behavior by going no contact.”

“Sorry to bring that up.” Her eyes are empathic, and I have a feeling she’s a second away from hugging me.

“It’s fine. People are responsible for their own behavior and choices. And I made mine.” This time, she does hug me.

Her scent invades my senses as her soft body molds to mine. She smells like flowers and fabric softener, a fragrance as sweet as she is.

Just as the hug gets too long, she whispers, “Now you drink.” She pulls away with a playful smirk and pours me a shot glass of whiskey.

My lips turn up into an unexpected smile. I don’t talk about this shit with anyone. Mostly because I don’t want them pitying me. Or telling me I should’ve done something different.

She did neither of those things. She offered comfort and changed the subject once it got uncomfortable. I have a feeling it’s what she always does. Gives people exactly what they need, or at least tries to.

“Fuck, this is good,” I say, downing my whiskey. “Your turn.”

She bites into her bottom lip, waiting for my question.

“What do you love about Bryce?” As far as I’m concerned, the asshole never deserved her, but she oddly got it into her head that he did.

“Did. Past tense.” She sighs. I let it slide, though I don’t fully believe she’s over him. “I don’t know. He was just. . . right.”

“Right?”

“He checked all the boxes.” She lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I guess I forgot to put down a box with ‘doesn’t fall in love with other women’.”

“And which boxes did he check?” I have no idea why I’m interested, but I’m patiently waiting her response.

“Ambitious, good career, proper looking, a gentleman. He was someone I could proudly bring home to my judgy family.” The opposite of everything I am.

“Sounds romantic,” I huff, making her laugh.

“When I put it that way, it really isn’t this amazing romance I built up in my head. But my family’s opinion is very important to me.” Her gaze lowers. “Orwasimportant to me.”

I fill both glasses with whiskey. “Here’s to finding out whatyouwant for yourself, without the expectation of others.”

She nods seriously, like this is a promise she never plans to break, and we both drink. “Shoot, this is strong.” Her face scrunches up with disgust and eventhatlooks adorable on her. “OK, next question. What was your last relationship like?”

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