“Yeah, my usual, please, Piper.”
I reach for the top-shelf bourbon, feeling his eyes burning trails across my skin. Christian might want to bend me over this bar and ruin me for all other men, but he’s too fucking honorable to actually doit. And even though I understand it, even though I know why he won’t, it’s still the thing that’s going to kill me.
I set his drink down, but before I can escape, his voice stops me cold. “How’s your dirty book going?”
“A gentleman ought to know better than to ask a lady that.” I try to look scandalized, pressing my hand to my chest, but my smile gives me away.
“I never claimed to be a gentleman,” he drawls, and I swear my stomach does somersaults. He leans back on his stool and lifts his whiskey to his lips. “Not all the time, anyway. Some situations call for a different kind of man.” He takes a lazy sip, watching me over the rim of the glass. “Besides, I’ve heard the way you deal with some of the guys here, and that mouth doesn’t always belong to a lady.”
“No? So, who does this mouth belong to, then?”
Christian stills, his eyes turning to midnight black, burning with something that makes my core clench so hard I almost have to grip the bar to stay standing.
“You tell me, darlin’. Because up until the last few days, I thought I knew.”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry, and my heart is thumping so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. “Maybe someday you’ll ask me that question again, and I’m hoping when you do, I’ll actually have an answer for you.”
I force myself to turn away, heading toward Jimbo, and I can feel Christian’s gaze trailing down my back. Because that wasn’t flirting or our usual game of pretend.
That was a fucking promise.
“You want another, Jim?” I ask, leaning against the bar, watching the man with the brown worn-out hat and a beard that hangs below his neck nurse his beer.
“I wanna know how you got that one to smile.” He jerks his chin toward Christian, who’s perched a few stools down the bar.
“I heard that,” Christian calls out.
“Good, I was hoping you would.”
Christian tips his glass toward Jimbo. “Haven’t lost my hearing yet. Not like you, old man.”
“Old man? I’ll whoop your ass for that, boy.”
“Yeah? Gonna chase me ’round with a fork again?”
Jimbo shakes his head, the deep grooves in his face creasing with amusement. “Swear to god, he and his brothers were little tyrants when they were kids. Always causing trouble wherever they went.”
“Now that I believe.” Christian’s eyes catch mine, and a slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Which one was the worst?”
Jimbo barks out a laugh. “You’re lookin’ at him.”
Christian huffs, shaking his head, but there’s pride there, glinting in those dark eyes. “That’s the last free Christmas tree you’re getting from me, Jim. Next year, you’re paying double.”
“Pfft, whatever. You love my Mags too much to do that.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake, he gives his trees away. Like my heart wasn’t already halfway in love with him.
“She holding up okay?” Christian asks.
Jimbo’s fingers wrap around his bottle a little tighter. “You know… good days and bad.” Christian nods, something soft settling across his features that’s so achingly tender it twists something deep in my chest.
“She still getting out to the market?”
Jimbo exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Not as much. She gets tired easily, but she’s stubborn as hell, so she still tries. Made it out last Saturday. Damn near wiped herself out for three days after.”
“Tell her I’ll swing by this week. I’ll bring her one of the small firs. I know how much she likes the smell.”
Jimbo nods, his throat working as he slowly sips his drink. “She’d like that, son.”