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But I’ve also never had whiskey before.
“Fine,” I say, lifting my chin to find the confidence I didn’t know I had in me. “I’ll take a whiskey.”
“You sure about that?”
The corner of my lip tips up. “It’s all you got, right?”
He pauses, staring at me for just a brief moment before he nods.
I can’t take my eyes off him the entire time he works behind the bar pouring my drink. He grabs a short glass, skips the ice, and reaches for a bottle of whiskey that sits on the top of the three-tiered liquor shelf he has set up.
“Whiskey neat,” he says, sliding it across the bar in front of me. “On me.”
I look from him to the glass and back to him, lifting the glass in the air for a toast even though he has nothing in his hand.
I take a small sip and crinkle my face in disgust.
People actually drink this? What the hell? It tastes like I’m drinking something straight off a tree. Oak mixed with spices? This can’t be something people actually enjoy.
“That’s disgusting,” I say, sticking my tongue out repeatedly,as if moving it around my mouth will actually remove the taste. I lift the glass in the air and look at the amber liquid before looking back at Griffin. “This would probably taste way better on you.”
His eyes narrow, and I don’t back down.
I kinda, sorta mean it. This drink is gross, but, damn, it’d probably taste way better on him.
“What did you just say?” he says, flatly.
“Oops,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand, forcing the words to come out all muffled. “Did I just put my foot in my mouth again?”
He leans one forearm on the bar, bringing himself closer to me and I suck in a breath. “What did you just say?” he repeats.
I remove my hand from my mouth and straighten my spine. “I said…this would probably taste better onyou. It’s certainly got an interesting taste.”
“Explain,” he demands.
I rest my elbows on the bar, leaning over, and watch as his eyes trail to the swell of my breasts before looking back into my eyes. This outfit isn’t something I normally settle for, and it’s very outside my comfort zone with how vibrant the colors are. But it sparkles. It makes me feel sexy. The combination of the boots with the hat makes me feel like I belong somewhere again.
Something about the way this man looks at me, even without a smile on his face, turns me on so damn much.
This is my chance to crack a smile.
I want to see it in the worst way possible.
Not to mention, the shitty wine coolers I had earlier are definitely making me feel bolder than I normally am.
“It means that if you took this glass and slowly poured it down your chest, letting it drip down your body for me to lick off, it would probably taste better,” I say, finishing my sentence with a smirk. “Is that a good enough explanation, Angry Cowboy?”
He stares at me, unblinking, before he moves his gaze to mymouth. He doesn’t stop staring so I take the moment to let my tongue trail along my bottom lip. The same tongue I just told him I would use to lick whiskey off his bare skin. His pupils widen, telling me he’s absolutely thinking about it. But then he surprises me by walking away without even acknowledging a single thing I just said.
Shit. I screwed that up.
Now my very good-looking, grumpy neighbor thinks I’m a freak in so many more ways than just screaming about a moose standing outside of my window watching me shower.
I leave the full glass of whiskey at the bar and head to where the girls and Tucker are dancing.
“Where’s your drink?” Lily asks.
“Whiskey isn’t my thing.” I shrug with a laugh.
