Page 27 of Vodka And Virtue

“Join us,” Shannon suggested.

“Wish I could, but I can’t. I gotta head back to the shop. I’ve got a client coming in thirty minutes.” His warm brown eyes lingered on Shannon. “Maybe next time. Just you and me.”

When he left, I eyed Shannon.

“What? Don’t give me that look, Rory. Worry about your own man problems.”

* * *

I was flippingthrough the channels on my TV when a text came through my phone.

Shannon: I'm attaching my cousin’s phone number. Use it wisely.

P.S. You didn’t get it from me.

Rory: You’re my new best friend.

Shannon: I was already your best friend, but thx, I’m honored. ??

It was prime information.Now, if I could only figure out what to do with it. Texting him for a late-night intimate conversation and flirting would only put him on the defensive. I risked having him block me. I had to come up with something that sounded legitimate.

If there was one thing I was certain we both had in common, it was our love of good food. So I ran with that.

Rory: This is Rory. Please save my number in case you ever need me.

Rory: I mean, in case you need to use it.

Rory: I hope you enjoyed a good dinner tonight. I thought I’d share my recipe for braised bourbon short ribs. You can make them in the crockpot, so they’re ready when you come home. If you’d like, I can pack up some of my leftovers and bring them to you tomorrow so you can try it.

I sat there,staring at my phone for at least twenty minutes, second-guessing everything I wrote. Had I come across as desperate? Did he even like bourbon short ribs? Could he see through my pathetic attempt to make contact with him? At forty-five, I was definitely too old to be worrying about text messages.

If he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to respond.

And he hadn’t.

I checked my phone four more times. After loading the dishwasher, after my shower, before I climbed into bed, and an hour later, when I couldn’t sleep because my mind was on Carlisle.

It wasn’t until the next day, as I was pulling in the parking lot for my shift, that I finally received an answer. Carlisle had responded with a picture of a bottle of bourbon glaze, asking if he had the right stuff. My smile was huge and dopey as I sent him a thumbs up.

Mostly, I was relieved he hadn’t blocked me or told me to stop contacting him. Which meant he was fine with messaging me. I spent most of my shift contemplating what I might send him next. A joke? A video of cats playing the piano? But I didn’t want to waste time on trivialities and nonsense. I wanted to find out everything I didn’t know about Carlisle, which was a lot. Hitting him up with a questionnaire wasn’t the best way to go about it, though. I had to be smoother than that.

His eyes landed on me for the fifth time this evening, that I was aware of, and I took advantage of the moment, striding over to the bar. He was wiping down bottles and was currently handling the rum.

That’s when inspiration struck.

Silently, I gestured for the bottle, and he handed it to me. “Amaretto, please.”

I reached over the bar and grabbed a clean shot glass, added the amaretto and the rum, and then reached in my pocket to retrieve a lighter. Carlisle's eyes were huge with curiosity as I lit the drink on fire.

“A flaming Doctor Pepper. My favorite drink.”

“It’s actually…quite beautiful. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never made one before. Thank you for showing me how.”

His appreciation warmed my chest, more than the rum and amaretto, as I downed the shot. “And if I were making your favorite drink, which alcohol would I need?”

His beautiful smile turned devious as he handed me a bottle of tequila and an empty shot glass. I ran through a long list of possible cocktails in my head that required tequila, trying to narrow them down.

“I’ll give you a hint.” He pointed to the 7-Up on tap.

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