Speakeasy by Sarina Bowen

Author:Sarina Bowen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tuxbury Publishing LLC
Published: 2018-05-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Alec

Feeling wrecked in the best possible way, I get out of bed and shuffle toward the kitchen. May ruins me every time we’re together. And between her visits, I dream of her.

I don’t even know myself right now. It’s not like me to be obsessed.

Now she’s going to spend the night in my bed, which is something I usually try to avoid with hookups. We’ll sleep tangled up together and then make sleepy love when her alarm goes off at eight. My sheets will smell like her, and I’ll bask in it.

This girl has gotten under my skin.

The refrigerator’s bright light makes me squint, but I find what I’m looking for—three different non-alcoholic beers. I grab the bottles and a bottle opener and carry everything back to the bed.

“What’s that?” she asks with a yawn.

“A treat. I…” The cat snakes between my feet with a loud meow, and I almost jump out of my skin. The bottles I’m carrying are briefly in peril as I sidestep the creature and then curse.

May cackles. “What’s with the cat, anyway?”

“You know my neighbor, Hamish?”

“Sure. Everybody knows Hamish.” She sits up against the headboard, pulling the quilt up to cover her fabulous chest.

“He’s still in the hospital, and his son didn’t want to take the cat.” And now I know why. That cat is the devil.

“What do you have there?” May asks.

“I had these shipped to me so you could try them. There’s a non-alcoholic porter, a lager, and a stout. Three different breweries in three different states. This shit is hard to find.”

“Wow.” Her eyes widen. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

I shrug that off. “Hey, I run a bar. I should know who makes the best hooch.” It’s a dodge, though. Of course I ordered these for her. Making her happy makes me happy. But my gut says she doesn’t want me to go out of my way for her. She’s a little sick of being fussed over. “Check this out.” I hand her a bottle.

While I’m popping the top off the porter, she reads another label. “This one’s from Washington State.”

“That one is supposed to be great. Let’s have a taste test. Ladies first.” I hand her the open porter.

She sniffs the top. “Good aroma.” Then she lifts it to her kiss-bitten lips and takes a sip. “Hey!” May smiles. “That mops up the floor with Corker’s.”

“Yeah?” Her smile lights me up as much as the sex did. Okay, that’s a lie. Nothing could top the sex we just had. But still. It’s a really nice smile.

May smacks her lips and takes another sip. “It’s smooth. Nice beer flavor. The mouthfeel isn’t as harsh as the grocery store stuff.”

I sputter with laughter. “You sound like a beer snob.”

“Snobby cider is the family business. Here. Try this.”

She offers the bottle, and I take a sip. I see what she means about the texture. The flavor is still not nearly as amazing as the award-winning beers in my life, but it’s really not bad.

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