Page 61 of Rebellious Hearts
“What are the options?”
“This bar is stocked with just about everything you can imagine,” Ben said. “Wine? There’s a really good Chardonnay here, Rombauer Vineyard.”
“That sounds good.” I wasn’t sure about the vineyard, but this bar was stocked with very good alcohol, and I trusted Ben’s taste. He had pretty good taste ineverythinghe’d chosen for me so far.
Ben poured me a glass and brought it to me where I’d sat down on the couch before he returned to the bar and poured himself a tumbler of whisky.
“To tonight,” he said, holding his tumbler in the air. “Let the pieces fall where they may.”
I giggled. “I don’t know if that’s the best toast I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, to us, then,” Ben said.
My stomach erupted with an involuntary rush of butterflies.
“To us,” I echoed softly, and we both took a sip of our drinks. A rush of warmth flowed over me that had nothing to do with the wine I was drinking and everything to do with the fact that we’d just toasted tous.
Ben came to me and sat down on the same couch. He sat close enough to me that our knees almost touched, and his warmth radiated through his chinos.
“This trip is very different from what I expected it to be,” Ben said.
“What did you expect it to be?”
“I don’t know…” Ben swirled his whisky around in his glass.
“What are you drinking?” I asked when he didn’t answer me, letting the silence stretch thin.
“Macallan 12-Year-Old Scotch,” Ben said, studying his glass. “It’s a really good whisky, and aging something for twelve years before putting it on the market is really something that sits well with me, you know? I mean, good things sometimes take time and rushing things… well, there’s a life lesson to be learned in whisky.”
I chuckled. “Who would have thought drinking could be such a good thing?”
“Drinking isalwaysa good thing,” Ben said gravely. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “And I’m fully aware that made me sound like a complete alcoholic.”
I giggled. “A little, but I get it.”
He opened his eyes and glanced at me, his eyes full of questions he didn’t ask.
“Sometimes we all need a way to escape, right? And who knows what those who drink more need to escape from? I don’t like to judge others because I know what it feels like to want to drown pain. It’s all well and good to stand tall, to be strong, to do theright thing. But quite frankly, that’s exhausting and we all need a vice, right?”
“Is yours work?” Ben asked.
I laughed. “Am I that transparent?”
“Sweetheart, I was put into the management position because I’m a Blackwood but you… you worked your way to where you are and Iknowthat’s a hell of a lot of overtime.”
I blushed when he called me sweetheart.
He took another sip and held his hands up in defense, one hand still clutching the tumbler with three fingers.
“Don’t worry, I won’t ask what you’re escaping from.”
“Maybe just myself,” I said softly.
Ben lowered his glass and his eyes were the color of honey when he looked at me, his face serious.
“There’s nothing I can see you might want to run from.”
“Yeah? Not everyone feels the same way.”
