Chapter 12

12

" H ow about we have a little fun and get to know each other better?"

Her aqua eyes widen with surprise before they immediately narrow with suspicion. "Better how?"

"I'll pour us four glasses each. If you guess the right bourbon, you get to ask me a question. If you guess the wrong one, I get to ask you one. And we have to answer, no matter what."

"So, this isn't like truth or dare?"

My elbows drop to the polished wood counter, and I lean in her direction. "I'm thirty-four not twenty-two. I'm a bit old for truth or dare, and frankly, the only good thing I ever found that comes out of that game is kissing or stripping."

A blush tints up her cheeks. "And we won't be doing either of those."

"No. We won't be doing either of those. Sorry to disappoint you."

She laughs, tucking a wayward strand that fell out of her messy bun back behind her ear. "What makes you think I'd want to kiss you again? Or see you strip?"

I shrug and stand to my full height, folding my arms. "I'm a great kisser, and we both know you've got a thing for me shirtless." I turn and start to set out more glasses before this gets out of hand and I remind her just how great of a kisser I am.

That's not what this is about.

This is us getting to know each other, getting more comfortable with each other, and her not walking on eggshells around me while thinking of me only as a fucking asshole because, for some reason, it bothers me that she does more than anyone else right now.

"What do you say? Are you brave enough to play my little game?"

She raises a challenging brow. "This doesn't seem fair to you. The odds are in my favor with this."

I shake my head. "While I appreciate your concern for me, I won't show you which bourbons I'm pouring. But you do have the advantage in that you can see my shelves, so you'll be able to narrow it down. Besides, I may not know you well yet, but I think I've already figured out you're not one to back down from a challenge."

"You're right. I'm not." She sits up a little straighter and leans her forearms on the bar top, all business. "Let's do it. But how will you know I won't cheat and watch you take them off the shelf and pour them?"

Good point.

"I could blindfold you."

Her eyes flare and my cock twitches, and I know that's the wrong path to take.

"Or you could just swivel around on your bar stool and face the other way."

She laughs, and without a word, spins her stool so she's facing the opposite direction.

I get to work, pulling four random bottles and pouring eight glasses in total. I set hers down on the bar in front of her seat and mine in front of me, and then I put everything back where it came from.

"You can turn back around."

She does, eyeing each of the glasses one by one and then slowly dragging her gaze up to mine. "You remember what you poured into each glass?"

"Yes."

"How?" she asks skeptically.

"I have a photographic memory. It's how I also graduated top of my class in both college and med school. But that's not one of your questions, so it doesn't count."

Her eyebrows bounce. "Still, I'm impressed. Okay. I believe you, and I believe you won't cheat. Here goes." She reaches for the first glass, and I do the same. With our eyes locked, we both polish off the first one, then set the empty down on the counter. She licks her lips, tilts her head, and studies the shelves behind me. "Nice one. That was Blanton's black label."

"Yes, it was. Very good. Now I'm impressed." I wave a hand in her direction. "Ask me anything."

Fire lights her eyes as if they're glowing from within, and she starts to swivel back and forth on her stool as she thinks. "All right. Um." She licks her lips. "What's a secret you've never told anyone?"

That every night I fall asleep thinking about you after I have to take a cold shower. But again, that's simply because of what she represents and not who she is. I'm positive of it. I'm determined to fucking prove it. But more than that, that's a secret I'll carry to my grave.

"The night Rory was born, Angelica didn't want her in the room with her. That should have been a tip-off, but I didn't think too much about it. I stood in the nursery, unable to sleep, and just stared at my little girl, thinking about everything. About all the diseases she could contract and surgeries she could require. About all the bad things she could encounter in this world and how I had no clue how I'd protect her from them. When I came to, I was sitting on the floor with my head between my knees. I'd had a panic attack and passed out right there in the nursery."

"Holy shit!" Estlin exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand.

"The nurse who helped me told me that worrying would make me a good dad, but panicking about things I can't control would clip her wings, give me an ulcer, and ruin us both. I try to remember that every time things beyond my control happen, even if I don't always succeed."

She stares at me for a long moment, only to pick up the second glass without saying another word about it. The whiskey goes straight down the back of her throat, and I follow, downing my shot.

She grimaces as she swallows and shudders. "Argh. That was rough. Jack Daniels."

I laugh. "Nope. Evan Williams. I bought it for Katy once as a joke because she had a hickey on her neck from a guy she met with that name. So now I have the bottle."

"I hope Katy's Evan kissed her better than that shot kissed me. I can still feel it and not in a good way."

"Here." I go into a nearby cabinet and pull out a container of pretzels I have and pour some into a dish. "Chase it down with these."

"Thank you." She grabs one of the twists and pops it in her mouth, chewing as she watches me carefully, not at all looking forward to my question. I want to ask her about her ex in Paris. She only briefly mentioned him, and I know she's holding something back from me. But I want to earn her trust—earn her comfort—and pushing her somewhere she doesn't want to go with me won't help that.

"What's the wildest thing you've ever done? And you can't say something easy like going to the hotel with me. "

She smirks. "What if it's true?"

"It's not. No way." I fold my arms and wait patiently.

"You're pulling my answers," she accuses, but I can see there's something. She's blushing and fidgeting in her chair. "I was an artsy book nerd."

" Was . But that was when you were a kid. Give it to me, Estlin. The whole truth."

She puffs out a breath. "You won't like my answer," she warns as she tugs the elastic from her hair and vigorously rubs her fingers into her scalp. All of her beautiful dark hair with splashes of pink and blue tumbles around her shoulders and back, messy and wild, and I remember what those thick, silky strands felt like against my hands.

I swallow harshly and drop my gaze to the four empty glasses before us. "Try me."

"I lost my virginity at seventeen in a sex club."

"What?" I practically shout. "Seventeen?! A sex club?!"

She shrugs. "I told you you wouldn't like it. But yes, I did, and if you tell Jack?—"

I hold up my hand, stopping her. "Our secrets stay between us, and I'll never tell them to Jack. But… I don't know. I don't mean to judge because I'm not. Just… explain."

She runs her finger along the rim of the next glass. The bourbon is getting to her a little. Her face has a glow it didn't before. It's the same glow it had that Friday night. It's alluring and sexy as hell. Maybe the bourbon is getting to me too because the idea of her in a sex club…

"I had just gotten to Paris. I'm young for my grade and didn't turn eighteen until the middle of October. My roommate was about to turn nineteen and was appalled that I was still a virgin. I had spent high school with my books and my art and found the boys my age to be boring and sophomoric. So my roommate took me to a sex club, just so I could see what sex was all about. I hadn't intended anything to come of it, but then I met someone there. We spent the night talking, and I went back the following two nights with the same result. On night four, I let him take my virginity, and we continued to see each other for a few weeks after that until I stopped going back to the club."

I blink, utterly floored. "Was it kinky?" I don't know why I ask. But I do, and I have to fucking know. We weren't kinky that night. The sex was hot and a little dirty but definitely not kinky.

"The sex or the club?" Her lips twist in amusement.

"Either. Both."

"A little, and only if that's what you were after."

Jesus hell. My dick is defying the laws of whiskey. Thank God I'm standing behind the bar and she can't see it.

"Did you enjoy it?"

She leans back in her stool and throws her arms behind her head. She's relaxed and has that playful glint to her. The one that lures me in like a moth to a flame. "Yes, I enjoyed it. It was so wrong and so unlike anything I'd ever done or thought to experience. He was older, and when I learned he was married, I stopped going to see him. It plagued me for weeks and weeks. I had no clue until another woman in the club told me."

"I lost my virginity at sixteen in the back of my car. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and she didn't enjoy it despite my best efforts because she was too nervous to ever relax. Your first time sounds like a hell of a lot more fun."

Her hands fall back to the counter and cradle the next glass. "Was she your girlfriend?"

"Yes. We went to school together and dated for about four months, I think."

"Hmm." She slides the glass back and forth along the wood. "Okay. Next one."

She picks up the glass and drinks it down, and for a moment, I watch her do it, still a bit lost in what she just told me .

I lift my glass and start to drink when she blurts out, "I'd like to come."

Alcohol sprays from my mouth in a brown shower, covering every surface around me. I cough at the burn in the back of my throat and wipe my wet lips and chin with the back of my arm.

"I meant on the trip," she finishes, her lips stretching wide even as she fights her laughter. "Not like… that . Are you okay over there?"

I grab some paper towels and wipe up my mess, grateful that I at least didn't get her. "Awesome. And thanks for that. That was great. A lot of fun and not at all embarrassing."

"Anytime. Glad to know I can still rile you up. Oh, and that was Pappy Freaking Van Winkle you gave me, so now I feel especially bad that you sprayed it instead of drinking it."

I wipe my forehead and lean against the wall behind me. "I thought maybe you were dodging my offer. I meant for you to com—join us," I amend, "as Rory's nanny. Not as anything else."

"I know. I would like to join you." She smirks. "I didn't want you to think I was ungrateful or unappreciative of the offer. And I would love to go."

"But?"

"But… I don't know how smart it is to do that, and I'm thinking of maybe not going."

I nod slowly, taking in her words and their not-so-well-hidden meaning. "It wouldn't be like that for us, Estlin because it can't be. Still, I appreciate your honesty, and if you change your mind, it's an open invitation. Now, moving on, you answered that correctly, so go ahead and ask me something."

She stands, picks up her last glass, and drinks it. "You tried to trick me. This is scotch and I don't know what brand." I get a coy smile, and then she's over by the pool table. "Do you play or is this for show?"

"Is that your question because I'll give you points for knowing it was scotch and not bourbon, despite not knowing the brand?"

"Not even close."

"I play. Sometimes."

"Good. Come play with me. This you'll beat me at since I suck at pool. Or we can play darts again?"

I likely should go to bed. Even if it's only nine o'clock. I should go upstairs and take that cold shower and do everything I can to not think about her the way I do every night. I haven't jerked off since she moved in here because every time I get hard and go to touch myself, I see her, and I can't jerk off to my kid's nanny. I can't allow my mind to roam and the fantasies to start.

Once they start, they'll never stop. They'll only grow and twist, and I can't do that and still have this with her.

So yeah, I should go to bed. I shouldn't be picking up my last glass, drinking it down, and then coming out from behind the bar area to join her at the pool table the way I am.

"Let's stick to pool," I suggest, even if it's so fucking stupid I want to kick my own ass. She's wearing loose cotton shorts and a tank top, and I'm going to have her bending over the goddamn table like that?

"Good. You break."

I grab a stick from the rack and hand her one.

"Thanks. Okay, tell me two truths and a lie."

I throw her a curious glance as I slide the pool cue between my fingers and then smack the white ball dead center, sending it careening toward the triangle of multicolored balls. It hits with a loud crack, and the balls go flying. Three balls clunk into pockets on either side of the table.

"Two truths and a lie?" I move around the table, line up, and shoot, the seven ball just missing as it bounces to the side of the pocket.

"Yep. I don't really have any good questions for you."

Estlin leans over the side of the table to take her shot, and my gaze immediately hits the floor when her cleavage spills out of the top of her tank top. The stick slides through her fingers once, and then she steadies it and tries again. Hitting the cue ball, she knocks the fourteen but misses.

I set my stick against the edge of the table and come around like the stupid asshole I am tonight and stand behind her like a cliché. Like I'm some guy in a cheesy movie making his move on the gorgeous woman he's trying to pick up in a smoky bar.

"Here. Like this," I start, lining her hips up and then helping her grip with the stick. I lean over the back of her, smelling her hair and feeling the heat of her body, her ass right up against my dick that is not at all unhappy to be in this position with her. Her breath catches, but I ignore it as I place my hands over hers and take the shot with her, showing her how to do it.

The white ball sails straight into the fourteen, and this time it goes into the pocket.

I release her and walk to the other side of the table, putting distance between us once more. Her face is flushed, and her eyes linger on the table for an extra second before she rights herself.

"Thanks," she says, her voice a little breathy, and I ignore that too.

I shouldn't have touched her like that. I shouldn't be doing any of this. But I can't seem to make myself stop either. Being near her is like a drug. A high that lingers long after she's gone. I like spending time with her. I want her relaxed around me. I don't want to be the jerk everyone thinks I am.

Not with her. Not with anyone. Not anymore.

I want to be the guy I used to be. The one she brought out of me that night. The one who took her to that hotel room and spent the night making her scream for me.

I clear my throat, ready to give her these two truths and a lie, when Rory's voice calls out to me. "Daddy? I threw up."

My head whips over to find Rory an absolute mess. This girl has the most sensitive stomach, and I should have known better than to let her eat all those sweets the way I did. "Oh, Moonshine. Are you okay?"

I rush over to her and peel her disgusting clothes off.

"My tummy hurts."

I kiss the top of her head and then her forehead. No fever.

"Let me get a bag for those." Estlin pinches her nose and visibly holds her breath, likely unable to handle the smell of vomit, but I'm not only a father, I'm a pediatric surgeon, and a little vomit doesn't scare me off. Plus, Rory is the queen of vomit.

Estlin is back in a flash, and I put the soiled clothes in the trash bag.

"What else can I do?" Estlin asks, worry all over her face.

"Nothing. Go enjoy your evening. I've got her. Come here, baby girl." I pick her up and carry her upstairs to give her a bath. Only Estlin isn't having that. She's by my side, running ahead of me to get the bath started.

"Here. I'll give her a bath, you strip her bed," she tells me. "You seem better with the throw-up than I am."

"Thank you," I say with a smile. One she returns, and for a moment, we get lost in each other. Just staring until Rory breaks the spell with a small whimper. The two of us set to work, me stripping the bed and Estlin giving her a bath.

Once Rory's bed is cleaned up and remade, I grab some fresh pajamas and enter the bathroom, only to stop by the door and lean against it. I watch as Estlin rinses out the conditioner and gently brushes the long strands of Rory's hair. All the while Estlin whispers sweet, soft, comforting words and rubs Rory's back to make her feel better.

My chest pinches and reflexively my fist comes up to rub the ache away. I'm in deep with this girl. She's perfect. For Rory. For… me.

I get Rory out of the bath and by the time she is tucked back into bed and I'm lying in mine, I realize I didn't get to tell Estlin my two truths and a lie.

They were going to be generic. Not anything like the ones floating through my head now.

Hiring her was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

I had a lot of fun playing drinking games and pool with her tonight.

I'm not at risk of liking her a hell of a lot more than I should.

I guess it's pretty easy to tell which one is the lie. And that's what scares me most.