Page 65 of Fall I Want
“Tequila.”
“Ah, my kryptonite,” she says.
“Another thing we have in common. Damn.”
Chapter 15
Autumn
Itake a step forward and Zane removes the plastic from the top of the exquisite bottle of tequila, then pops off the white cap. Pink flowers and vines intricately trail up the sides. It looks like it was once displayed behind a glass case. “Wow,” I whisper, sliding my fingers across it.
“It’s a handcrafted, hand-painted Talavera carafe. Extremely limited edition and all the proceeds go toward fighting breast cancer.”
“You should save this for a special occasion,” I offer.
“I did.” There is zero hesitation in his voice.
He pulls shot glasses from a cabinet and fills them. “No lime or salt needed. It’s smooth. I’m convinced it’s hangover-proof. Hence why it’s one of my favorite tequilas in the world.”
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t have told me that. What if I hate it?”
“Then the fake engagement is off.” He winks.
We shoot them back. It tastes incredible, refreshing in a way. Tequila like this will get me in trouble or naked. Fuck, maybe both.
“What does your palate say?” he asks.
“It’s wonderful.” I stare at the bottle. “Is it pricey?”
“Only five,” he tells me, refilling our glasses.
“Hundred?” If so, it’s the most expensive thing I’ve ever drank.
“Thousand.”
“Seriously?” I nearly choke on the second shot.
“You’re fucking cute.” He pours himself another and I move my glass forward, allowing him to fill mine again.
“This is dangerous.” I meet his eyes.
“It’s as easy as drinking water.”
“I’m not talking about the tequila,” I say, and he fully understands.
“We forgot to toast.” He smirks, holding up his glass. “To us.”
“Tous.” I shoot it back and set it on the counter.
My body buzzes, and it’s not from the alcohol, though that’s helping. The five-minute alarm dings, pulling us away.
Zane grabs two mitts and flips the seeds, then returns them to the oven.
“Ten more minutes,” I say, reaching for the bottle, contemplating drinking more.
“I’m keeping up with your pace. But at this rate, we’ll both be shitfaced before we finish our pumpkins,” he mutters with a brow flicked upward.
Fuck, I cannot handle him looking at me like that. But somehow, I keep my composure as his closeness drags me under.
