Page 73 of The Lord of Whispers

The usual bet between us was that the loser of the game took a shot of the winner’s choosing. We made our way to the back deck of the bar.

“Ladies first, I always say,” Luke said.

“Ever the gentleman,” I teased.

I picked up the rusty horseshoe, feeling its weight in my hand before throwing it perfectly, ringing the stake in the ground. I looked at Luke, satisfied, but not overly so, not wanting to count my eggs before they hatched. I was good, probably better than Luke most of the time, but he had shellacked me more than a few times. I knew better than to gloat this early in the game.

Luke pitched his horseshoe, flashing me a wide smile as his shoe rang directly on top of mine.

“Looks like we have ourselves a game,” he taunted, the challenge twinkling in his eye.

For that smile, I would almost be willing to throw the game.Almost, I thought, throwing another shoe that landed immediately adjacent to my first throw.

We continued to play horseshoes throughout the night, but Rhett never appeared. The first two shots went to Luke. I treated him to two particularly sweet shots because I enjoyed him having to go to the bar to order them. A specimen like Luke was unfazed by a couple of shots.

Luke took the third game—choosing an equally horribly sweet shot for me as my punishment. At this point, we were both several drinks and shots deep, and a win or loss was no longer necessary to provoke another round of shots. We toasted ourselves, each other, and our bastard friend, Rhett, who was too busy banging to hang out.

I closed down Bar Louie for the first time ever. And it was exactly what I had needed to get my mind off how I’d left things with Jay.

“You don’t have to go home, but you have to get the hell out of here,” the bartender bellowed.

We had not even realized the hours that had passed since we first arrived. We stumbled out of the bar, and my hand darted out for Luke’s arm, so I didn’t trip on the cobblestone.

“I whooped your ass, and you know it,” I jeered at Luke.

“Maybe I let you because I just wanted to get drunk,” Luke replied.

“Keep telling yourself that, big boy,” I retorted.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone who can fit under my chin,” he jested.

“With heels, I come up to at least your mouth,” I japed, defensively.

To prove my point, I stopped walking, standing in front of him and lining up my face to his until our faces were inches apart.

“See,” I breathed, my lips inches from his.

If he tilted his head down any farther, our lips would be touching.

“Right up to your mouth,” I said slowly as I stared into Luke’s blue eyes, holding my breath.

“I guess you’re right,” he said, sweeping me off my feet and breaking the tension.

He hefted my weight in his arms, causing one of my heels to almost fall off. We laughed.

“Let me down, Luke. I’m notthatdrunk,” I protested. “I can walk,” I said, when we finally quit laughing.

Luke set me back down, and I almost instantly almost rolled my ankle. Luke wrapped his arm around my waist, easily holding my weight with one arm as we continued to walk. My black cocktail dress bunched under the strength of his grip at my waist.

“I can run you back to House Vitruvian if you want,” Luke offered.

He often scooped me in his arms and ran with unnatural speed to our destination. More so due to my slow pace in my high heels than anything else.

“Let’s go back to your house. I think we could use a nightcap,” I offered.

The last thing we needed was another drink. But I wasn’t ready to go back to the manor. We made our way back to the Bellamy manor, yelling and laughing the entire way back to Court. When at last we made it to Luke’s private bar, Luke made me my favorite drink, a nip of scotch with a splash of soda and a twist of orange peel. It was later than Luke and I had ever hung out by the time we were willing to admit it was time to quit drinking and go to bed.

“Ready for me to take you to the manor?” Luke offered again.

---