Page 5 of A Date With Death

“Doesn’t count. I was insecondgrade when I kissed Becky Louis. She bit my tongue.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have shoved it down her throat.”

He reluctantly smiled. “Maybe not.” He tossed his own shot back and reveled at the smooth burn as it went down. A few more shots and he might be able to avoid the wheelchair until at least the dinner hour.

“Have you thought about getting prescription painkillers instead of drowning the pain with alcohol?”

He shot her a look that should have frozen her to the bar stool.

She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry. The filter between my brain and my mouth is defective. I shouldn’t have asked.”

The completely unrepentant look on her face, in direct opposition to her words, forced a laugh out of him. How long had it been since he’d laughed, or even smiled? He had no idea. But the novelty of both had him starting to relax, if only a little. “I was on pretty strong pain pills in the beginning, but it was like living in a brain-fog all the time. Had to wean myself off them. Drinking works better for me, and it’s a heck of a lot more fun.” He refilled his glass, then paused in question with the bottle poised over hers.

“Yes, please.”

He topped off her shot, then drained his while watching her. If he hadn’t been paying close attention, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiny, involuntary shudder when she tossed it back.

“That’s a waste of some pretty great tequila for someone who doesn’t even like it.”

She shoved the glass across the island for more. “What makes you think I don’t like it?”

He poured more for himself, but not for her. “When you have ten or eleven more years of experience behind you, maybe you’ll figure it out. Go home, Teagan. There’s nothing for you here. I can’t help you.”

“You mean youwon’thelp me?”

“The intent doesn’t matter. The result is the same.”

“Then I guess we’re back to drinking. Shots with a hot guy before noon. I can think of worse ways to spend my morning.” She grabbed the bottle.

He tugged it away from her. “If you’re trying to win me over with the hot guy talk, you can stop right now. Like I said, I’m not going to help with your case. And I’m not buying this over-the-top happy, flirty personality you’re presenting. Nobody’s that cute. You’re trying too hard.”

“You think I’m cute?” She grinned and fluttered her long lashes again.

“I think you’re nervous and overcompensating. It’s time to drop the act.”

Her smile dimmed and she seemed genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

He rested his forearms on the island. “Profiler, remember? At least, I used to be one. It took me a few minutes to realize what was happening. Probably because I’m out of practice and I do my best to avoid people these days. But you don’t have to keep pretending, trying to be something you’re not. Maybe it’s the tequila that I drank, maybe it’s that I admire your spunk and the effort you’ve put into this. Whatever it is, you’ve earned a slight reprieve. I’ll listen to your spiel so you can get it out of your system.ThenI’ll throw you out.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, then grabbed his full shot glass and tossed it back before he could stop her.

He silently cursed himself for not being more careful. Given her small stature and the strength of the tequila, her ability to safely drive herself home was now seriously in question.

“Better?” he asked dryly.

“Better. Although I’ll admit that scotch I saw in your cabinet is more to my taste.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

She grinned.

“This is where I warn you that I haven’t read the information that Mason left me.”

“I kind of figured, since the folder I gave him is hanging half-out of your garbage can on your back patio.” She motioned toward the glass doors on the far side of the kitchen.

“Observant, I’ll give you that. Then again, it’s hard to miss a neon green folder with hideous pink polka dots.”

“Not a polka-dot fan?”