Page 46 of Hypnotized By Love

Plus, it would make sure that I wouldn’t be fixating on the fact that Mason Beckett had stood me up.

Again.

My phone rang a few times, but I didn’t check it. After all the stress of the last couple of days, I deserved a night out. I briefly considered inviting my sister and Bridget to join me, but I remembered that Sierra was working the late shift tonight, and I didn’t particularly want Bridget to come and try to sell me on why Mason “Mr. I’m Too Good to Show Up for Dates I Arrange” Beckett was a good guy.

I was on my second shot when the bartender, named Romeo, came over to ask if I wanted something to eat.

That was probably a good idea. I asked him to get me nachos. Because nachos got me. They were basically just tacos that didn’t have their life together.

And, at the moment, I felt like I didn’t have anything together at all.

When Romeo came back with my tacos—er, nachos—I asked him if he wanted to join me. I’d gotten all dressed up for nothing and felt like I should have some company.

“And your name is Romeo, which is basically a sign from the universe,” I told him. “It’s romantic. I might be your Juliet.”

He gave me a quick smile, like he’d heard that one before, and then went over to serve somebody else.

Which was probably a good thing. I knew that I got a bit too friendly when I overindulged slightly.

And just after shot number four, I heard an unwelcome sound.

“Sinclair?”

There stood Mason, holding something in his hand.

“Mason!” I declared loudly, throwing my hands up in the air. “You’re here!”

“Have you been drinking?” He looked confused. Which made sense. I had never partied in high school and was a glass-of-wine-once-or-twice-a-week kind of girl now. Not that he would know anything about my current consumption.

Just that he’d never seen me slightly tipsy before.

“Only liquor, promise.”

“And how drunk are you?” he asked.

“A lot to very,” I reassured him.

“Tequila, huh?” He nodded at the bottle. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Tonight? Or in my whole life?”

“Tonight.”

“It’s hard to say.”

I waved my empty shot glass in Romeo’s direction. “Romeo! I need another one! Pour favor!” I smiled back at Mason. “I was using the English ‘pour,’ with theuin it, not ‘por,’ the Spanish word. A multilingual pun. It was funny.”

He smiled at me. “And why are you drinking like someone strapped you to a World War I operating table?”

“Hmm, let me drink about it,” I said, drumming my fingers on the bar. “For fun?” There was this nagging voice at the back of my brain telling me that I was supposed to be upset about something, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what that was.

“Whatever the reason is for this, I don’t think tequila’s the answer.”

“Maybe not, but it’s worth a shot!”

That got me a laugh, and it was a glorious sound that made me feel warm all over. Or maybe that was the tequila. Either way, I was feeling good. I should make him laugh more often.

He gestured Romeo over and asked for a taste of what I was having. I wanted another shot, but Romeo left before I got it.

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