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“Maybe she’s not trying to scare you. Maybe she’s just trying to be her own woman.”
“Doing dangerous things doesn’t make you your own woman, Belle.” He glanced down at the glass of whiskey. “Neither does drinking whiskey. Do you even like whiskey?”
She really wanted to lie, but the knowing look in his eyes stopped her. “It’s nasty stuff.”
He smiled. He had a really nice smile. It was the kind that totally transformed his face from handsome to breath stealing. “Okay. We’ve figured a couple things out. You don’t like licorice ice cream and whiskey. What drink would you like?”
“Liberty always orders us—”
He cut her off. “We’re not talking about what Liberty always orders for you. What do you want?”
“That’s the problem. I’ve let Liberty take control for so long that I don’t have a clue.”
“Then let’s figure it out.” He waved over the bartender. “The lady would like one each of your most popular cocktails, please.”
“What are you doing?” she asked once the bartender was gone. “That’s a horrible waste of money.”
He winked. “Luckily, I have money to waste.”
The bartender only brought two drinks at a time, but she had to take sips of seven different cocktails until she found the one she liked the best. As soon as she took a sip, she knew. Corbin seemed to know too.
“If that look of utter delight is any indication, I think we have a winner. You’re a lemon drop martini girl.”
She took another sip. “It tastes like summer. It’s refreshing like a dip in Cooper Springs and sweetly tart like Mama’s lemonade. And it gives you a warm feeling right here.” She pressed a hand to her chest. Corbin’s gaze followed and that warm feeling intensified.
“I think that warm feeling has more to do with all the alcohol you’ve consumed.” His gaze lifted, his eyes a dark blue that beckoned her to dive in and swim around. The crazy thought had her realizing that she probably was a little tipsy. She looked away and continued eating the baby back ribs, potato salad, and beans the bartender had brought.
She’d forgotten how good Bobby Jay’s ribs were. She usually ordered the brisket like Liberty, but now she realized she loved ribs much better. Although she didn’t like them as much as Corbin. He finished off his plate and then started helping himself to some of hers.
“Hey, rib stealing is a crime here in Wilder,” she teased.
“I figured you wouldn’t mind sharing with the man who helped you find lemon drop martinis.” He took a big bite from the rib he held.
When they had finished polishing off the ribs, he asked for the tab and refused to accept the credit card she tried to hand him. “My treat and I’ll drive you back to the Remington Ranch. You can come get your car tomorrow.”
He was right. She was too tipsy to drive. But she didn’t want to go back to her sister’s.
“I don’t want to go to the Remington Ranch.”
He cocked his head in confusion and a strand of hair fell over his forehead. It reminded her of the wayward mop of hair he’d had in high school. Unruly and unstyled. He had gorgeous wavy dark blond hair with brown undertones. On their date, she had wanted to reach out and run her fingers through the silky-looking strands. Of course, she had been too shy and terrified of being found out then.
She wasn’t now.
Without hesitation, she reached out and tousled his hair, causing more than one strand to fall over his forehead in messy waves.
His shocked look made her realize how inappropriate her actions were. But she wasn’t sorry. She liked messy-haired, casual Corbin much more than she liked styled, rigid businessman Corbin.
She lowered her hand from his hair and smiled. “There’s the boy I remember.”
His features hardened. “I’ll never be that foolish boy again.”
“You weren’t foolish, Corbin. You just liked a girl, that’s all.”
“And foolishly pursued her with wilted wildflowers and silly poems as if I would have ever stood a chance.”
“That’s what I admired most about you. There were a lot of boys who fell under Liberty’s spell, but most of them didn’t have the guts to do what you did and go for it. I don’t think that’s foolish. I think that’s brave. I, on the other hand, wasn’t brave. I wasn’t brave enough to tell my sister I wasn’t going to lie for her. Or brave enough to tell you the truth. And I’m not brave enough now either. I’m shaking in my boots just thinking about having to live on my own and make my own decisions. But it looks like I don’t get a choice.”
He studied her. “Sometimes not having a choice is exactly what makes us brave.” He got up. “Now come on, I’ll drive you home.”
