Page 19

“Something like that,” I say shortly, taking another sip of whiskey.
She fiddles with the hem of her shirt, her gaze flicking to me. “Do you always sit in the dark?”
Her legs tuck tighter under her, the oversized shirt has ridden up slightly with her fidgeting, but she doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe she does—and I focus on my glass, trying not to let my gaze linger.
“Sometimes,” I reply, my tone clipped.
“To think?”
“Something like that.”
Her lips twitch, like she’s suppressing a smile. She leans forward slightly, her elbow resting on the arm of the chair, and the movement causes the fabric of her neckline to slip farther down.
I don’t look, but I feel the heat of her presence more keenly now.
“What are you thinking about?”
I raise an eyebrow, already annoyed by the intrusion. “Work.”
Her lips press together, but she doesn’t push further.
All I want is to be alone with my thoughts and whiskey, but she stays, watching me like she’s waiting for something.
Her blue eyes catch the faint light, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me—like she’s trying to figure me out—that has me on edge. I take another sip of whiskey, trying tochase the tension away, but it lingers.
The silence stretches again, and I’m tempted to down the rest of my whiskey in one go, just to have an excuse to get up and leave. But Annie shifts slightly in her chair, pulling my attention back to her.
“What are you drinking?” she asks, her voice soft.
I glance at the glass in my hand, then back at her. “Whiskey.”
She nods, her fingers playing with the hem of her oversized shirt again. “Is it good?”
I tilt my head slightly, studying her. “Do you drink?”
“Sometimes,” she says, meeting my gaze. “But not whiskey.”
I hold out the glass, the amber liquid catching the faint light from the hallway. “Try it.”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking between the glass and me.
“It won’t bite,” I say, my tone neutral, though the way she’s acting is amusing.
After a beat, she leans forward and reaches for it. Her shirt falls open more, giving me a glimpse of bare skin.
Her fingers brush against mine as she takes the glass, and the unexpected warmth of her touch sends a jolt through me.
She shudders as she sits back.
“Cold?” I ask.
Annie shrugs. “A little,I guess.”
I grab the remote on the table next to me, press a button, and the fireplace comes to life with a small simmer.
Annie looks at the fire for a moment, leaning back in the chair. She looks back down at the glass cradled in both hands. For a moment, she just looks at it, as if debating whether or not to take a sip. Then she lifts it to her lips, her movements slow and deliberate.
Her lips press to the rim of the glass, and I watch the slow movement as she tilts it, the line of her throat catching the faint light. She takes a small sip, her nose wrinkling slightly, and pulls the glass away with a soft cough.