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We make it back to his house, and rather than holing myself up in the office like I’ve been doing since we watched the movie together that night, I decide that I’m in the mood for something different.
Deciding to start with a drink of water, I follow Nolan straight toward the kitchen. I rise onto my tiptoes and reach for the tallest glass on the top shelf. But at the last second, I spy something way more interesting hanging out at the back of the cabinet.
“Let’s do tequila shots,” I suggest, grabbing the bottle and spinning toward Nolan.
He eyeballs me warily before turning to the fridge. “I’m beat. I’m going to bed.” He emerges with the water pitcher.
“Aww.” I pour my shot and toss it back. Limbs already feeling warm and loose and silly, I begin singing as I dance around. “Nolan is a bor-ing man, bor-ing man, bor-ing man. Nolan is a boring man, who has to go to bed,” I sing to the tune of Mary Had A Little Lamb.
“Yikes,” he groans. “That’s going to be a hit.”
“Come on. Do shots with me!” I beg. I really want to loosen the awkwardness between us.
Nolan sets the water pitcher on the counter. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes skate up and down my body. “Inez, you’re my employee. I’m trying to be professional here.” He’s got all sorts of excuses, but I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t seem in a hurry to head down the hall to get to bed.
“Professional?” I scoff. “After you forced me to move in with you. Against my will.” I let out a loud, fake gasp. “Yeah, so very professional of you, Boss Man.”
“Wow. You’re so ungrateful,” he spits out. “Not a great personality trait.”
I do a three-sixty degree eyeroll. “It’s simple. When we’re at work, we’re coworkers. When we’re at home, we’re roommates. And roommates do shots together on a Friday night.”
OMG. I think I just implicitly referred to Nolan’s house as my home.Totally didn’t mean to do that.
Grabbing a second shot glass, I pour us each a shot this time.Then we battle it out in a long stare-off.
Finally, he relents.
I struggle to fight my grin as he picks up the glass and gruffly clinks it against mine. Then we drink together.
Without a word, I fill the glasses back up to the brim with tequila and we do it again.
I’m three shots to Nolan’s two. “That hit the spot,” I mumble.
When I say that, Nolan’s shoulders stiffen and his eyes widen at me. I realize the innuendo of what I just said. Instead of feeling embarrassed, I suppress a giggle. Yeah, I bet he’d like to hit the spot. Snicker, snicker.
He quickly shakes himself out of it.
Thinking we’re going to call it quits right there, I twist the cap back onto the bottle. I had a hard enough time convincing that man to take the first shot with me. I highly doubt we’re about to stand here and finish the rest of the tequila.
“You done already?” He motions toward the alcohol.
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“See—this is why I didn’t want to get this started.” His head wags from left to right.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up.”
No fucking way. I’m officially offended.
I uncap the bottle and fill the glasses again, ready to accept his implicit challenge. “Shove it, Boss Man.”
His shoulders go stiff again. I glance at his pants. He seems to be going stiff down there, too.
“Goddammit,” he mumbles. “That mouth of yours is gonna get me in trouble tonight, Machado.”
Well…maybe I want to get him in trouble tonight.
