Page 28 of Vodka And Virtue

“A margarita? Tequila smash?”

He added grenadine and orange juice to the shot glass and topped it with a maraschino cherry. “A Bunny Fucker,” he teased, taking a sip of the drink before handing it to me.

I turned the glass so that I could taste the spot where his lips had been and downed the rest of the shot. It was delicious and sweet, just like I knew he would be.

“It's perfect,” I purred, popping the cherry in my mouth. “Just the right balance of sweet and sour.”

“Oh! That gives me an idea.” He retrieved the empty shot glass from me and dropped it in the sink. “I should plan a shot tasting event. To introduce people to new ones they might not be familiar with. I could call it ‘The Shoot Your Shot Tasting Event’. Just think of all the increased revenue.”

He had a faraway look in his eyes, probably imagining all of the money pouring in over his grand idea. That’s how his mind worked. He would come up with a brilliant idea out of nowhere and expound on it until it was a fully formed plan. Then he would execute it flawlessly. When Carlisle was brainstorming, he never failed to impress me.

When it was time for my break, I made my way to the kitchen to see what leftovers Gordy had lying around. I was expecting a marinated chicken breast or a glazed filet of fish. I was not, however, expecting his wrath.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted at me across the kitchen, pointing his spatula at me. “Teaching my cousin about all this cooking. That’smyjob. I don’t need them nosing around my kitchen, fucking things up.”

This had to be about the bourbon glaze. “Exactly, it’s yourjob. When you’re at home, you should be able to take a break and let them take over. They can cook for themselves.”

“Whatever. You’re just grooming him.”

“Excuse me? I may be significantly older, but he’s a grown man.”

“What the fuck, Rory! I was talking about cooking. You’re grooming him to be your house husband.”

“Oh, sorry.” I scrubbed my face, embarrassed that I jumped to the wrong conclusions so quickly. “I’ve been receiving shit from Graham. I just thought this was more of the same.”

“Yeah, well, what did you expect? Carlisle is the baby of the family.”

The absurdity of that statement hit me full force, and I laughed incredulously. “The baby?Jesus Christ, Gordy. He’s the same age as the rest of you.”

He just shook his head, undeterred. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s softer than the rest of us.”

This time, my laugh was full of sarcasm. “There’s nothing soft about Carlisle. He’s stronger and more capable than any man I know. Including myself. There’s nothing he can’t handle. Keep that in mind the next time you refer to my house husband.”

10

CARLISLE

I stood justoutside the entrance to the kitchen, and I could hear every word they said.

His house husband.

When confronted by my cousin, he hadn’t denied it. He stood his ground against my family and staked his claim on me, bold as could be. Up until now, I doubted if he was as serious as he would have me believe when he talked about finding someone to share his life with.

But now? I believed every word.

I walked a little straighter, the bounce in my step a little more pronounced, as I made my way down the hall to the store room.

I wish I had the confidence to be as outspoken as Rory was when it came to voicing my feelings. Last night, when I received his text, I didn’t know how to respond, or even if I should. To engage with him would be flirting, a clear green light to pursue me. Before I gave him that, I needed to make sure that I wanted him to.

But as I lay in bed in the dark, I envisioned him moving around his kitchen, in nothing but the worn blue jeans he wore when he rode his bike. His chest and arms, covered in colorful ink, were on full display, as tempting as the aroma of the food he was cooking. I wondered what his kitchen looked like after the renovations he made with his own hands. Did he have a kitchen island? A place where I could sit and watch him as he cooked for me? I even went so far as to imagine that he fed me a bite from his fork.

Who was this sexual being with these erotic fantasies?

It wasn’t lost on me that the only difference in me was I had traded out a woman for a man in my dreamscape. That seemed to be the catalyst, just like my brother had predicted would happen.

Dammit. I hated when I had to admit he was right.

Thankfully, it didn’t happen often.

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