Page 93 of The Bourbon Bet
“I visit.”
“Not often.”
“I would—”
“Hi, um,” I interrupt, moving around the arguing siblings. “Could we get back on topic? What has you asking about Sebastian?” I ask Noah.
Noah points toward the direction of the counter. “He’s here, asking for you.”
Sebastian ishere. Why? He should be at his distillery. We aren’t supposed to see each other until the derby party. Shame burns through me. How can I look him in the eye knowing what I’mconsidering?
I inhale deeply and press my palms flat against my thighs to keep them steady. “Thanks. I’d better see what he needs.”
Noah nods. “Right. Um, we should probably get going then. I need to swing by my parents’ house before I get on the road.”
Paige’s lips twitch. “Are you afraid of the big, bad Mr. Blackstone?”
“Absolutely,” he says without hesitation.
I almost smile at their antics. “I’ll walk you out,” I say.
Paige hugs me. “Don’t worry about it. Talk to your man or whatever Sebastian is to you. And call me if you need anything, okay?”
I manage a grateful smile. “Thanks, Paige. And have a safe trip, Noah.”
Wiping my face one last time, I step from behind the shelves with them. The words die in my throat as I catch sight of Sebastian standing near the counter, his tall frame silhouetted against the late afternoon sun streaming through the front windows.
His eyes lock with mine, then flick to Noah beside me. Something dark and possessive flashes across his face. It’s the unmistakable jealousy at seeing another man by my side. His wanting me as his might have thrilled me an hour ago, but now it’s a noose of guilt wrapping around me.
He stalks toward us, then slows and his brow furrows. “Are you okay?” he asks.
The concern in his question guts me. This is the man I’ll have to betray to have my dream. How can I even consider using what we have against him?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sebastian
“Give me a second,” Rosalia tells me.
She walks past with Paige and some guy who looks like an adult Draco to the bookstore’s front door. She doesn’t have employees, so who is this asshole? I grind my molars to keep my demands for answers inside. Rosalia isn’t Tiffany. I refuse to spiral, well, not spiral any further, until I have answers.
Before exiting, the man glances over his shoulder at me. My glare is ice, and he flinches.Good.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when she returns.
“Long day,” she replies, looking everywhere but at me.
Does her avoidance have something to do with the man who’d left with Paige? “Who’s the guy? Did you hire him?” I try for casual, but it still comes out jealous.
“Why are you here?” she asks.
I’m trying not to push my baggage on her, my knee-jerk reaction that she’s cheating. Which is ridiculous, she isn’t even mine. Fuck. Why the hell won’t she answer my question?
“I wanted to see you. But it seems I’ve come at a bad time. Busy with your friends,” I couldn’t keep the acid from dripping on that last word.
She frowns. “Paige is my friend. The guy is her brother, Noah. He was helping me out so I could talk to his sister.”
Oh. Shit. I’m an asshole. “I apologize.”
