Page 23 of Bride ’N Boots

“Is this heartbreak drinking?”

I shook my head. “This is he made me feel stupid, and I hate feeling stupid kind of drinking.”

“What happened?” he asked.

I looked at the microwave clock. “Two-oh-one.” I lifted my shot glass. “Bottom’s up.” We tossed back the shots and I shuddered violently. “Oh God. That’s terrible.”

“Why did you insist on whiskey?” he asked. “Why not something else?”

“Vodka makes me cry, tequila makes my legs fall open, and whiskey makes me feisty.”

“What was that about tequila?” Stratton asked with a slow smile.

I reached for the bottle. “Another?”

“Sure. Feisty, you say? How feisty are we talking?”

I downed another shot, glad that this one went down easier. “Uhm. Picking fights with people twice my size.”

“I’m twice your size.”

I grinned. “Be prepared.”

“I can’t feel my face,” I said, pressing my fingers to my cheeks. “I should stop drinking.”

Stratton laughed. “We stopped drinking an hour ago.”

“How many shots have I had?” I asked.

“Two.”

“Oh.”

“Lightweight,” he teased.

I was currently supine on the couch, my head on a pillow, my sock-clad feet on his lap.

“I like your place,” I murmured. “It’s very cozy.”

“Glad you like it.” His hand went to my ankle and he held it. “So, you never did tell me about your phone call.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. You took a second shot instead.”

“Oh.” My eyes drifted to half-mast.

“Maisie,” he pressed, gripping my ankle.

“Sorry.” My eyes flipped open. “He got a promotion. And he told me he was moving to Coeur d’Alene and he wanted to move in together and I told him he was a terrible lay. Then I hung up and realized that all three of the Calhoun brothers overhead me.”

“Rewind. He wanted to move to Coeur d’Alene?”

“Yeah.”

“And he wanted to live with you?”

“So he said. I asked him who she was.”