Page 30 of The Second Chance in the Mediterranean
“Shots, shots, shots!” Harper chanted.
Seb and I exchanged an amused look. The chant took over, and Roy and Will went to the bar to buy a round.
“I feel confident enough in Will that he’ll come back with something at least halfway decent.” Seb leaned in. “No buttery nipples or blow jobs.”
I chuckled. “I will be curious to see what they come back with. Roy loves a craft cocktail; I just can’t picture him doing shots.”
“To be fair, I have a hard time thinking of you doing shots, and I’ve actually seen you do them.”
Seb’s eyes held mine and a blush crawled up my cheeks. We did shots together that night—commiserating over our jobs, such a contrast to this night.
“I seem to remember waking up not nearly as hungover as I’d expected the next morning.”
“Well, we may have done a few shots.” Seb sipped his beer. “But I prefer my partners to be as sober as possible.”
“That’s right. I made us coffee.”
His eyes flicked down to my mouth. “It was only the second-best thing I ate that night.”
My heart beat harder, and as if he could tell, Seb dipped his eyes down lower, tracing the line of my bare shoulders and the swell of my breasts right above my dress. He shifted in his chair and a quiet growl came from his throat.
Roy and Will returned with two trays of shots. They were passed around until we all had one. Roy cleared his throat and held up his shot. “We just learned a valuable life lesson at the bar. One should always know the local language for a toast.” He hiccupped. “And some very generous gentlemen may have bought us some shots at the bar and given us some practice at toasting in Croatian. So . . .” He leaned forward and concentrated.“Jevell...Je veil...”
Xavier laughed. “What, are you trying to speak French?”
“Casse-toi,”Roy retorted gracefully, sticking two fingers in Xavier’s face.
“Živjeli!”Will cut in.
We clinked glasses and tried our own hand at toasting in Croatian before tossing the shots back. “Whoa.” Seb grimaced, placing his shot glass upside down on the table. “Remind me not to drink with Croatians too often. What the hell was that?”
“Raahh...rakiha...rakija! Something like that.” Roy fluttered his hand.
“Fruit brandy,” Will told us, leaning over. “It’s...pungent. And I think we are all learning that Roy cannot handle his booze. You’re cut off, buddy.”
Dramatically tilting his head back, Roy whined. “I can’t say no when cute lads offer to buy me drinks.”
Will patted him on the back. “A couple more shots and you won’t make it to the club.”
“A couple more shots and your roommate will be helping you puke in the head later tonight,” Seb muttered under his breath.
“Fair point, mate.” Roy waggled a finger at Seb and looked at him through narrowed, though slightly unfocused, eyes. “Don’t go getting pissed and being irresponsible.”
“I would never.” Seb grinned.
Roy turned his attention away, and I leaned in toward Seb. “Has he actually gotten pissed and thrown up?”
“Nah,” Seb said. “He’s too good of a kid for that, really.”
“A kid? He’s older than you.”
“Well, maybe I’m a kid too, then.”
Under the table, I crossed my legs, letting my foot hook under Seb’s calf. “I hope not.”
Seb gave me a hungry look and, with a deep inhale, slid his hand under the table and squeezed my knee.
Anticipation curled in my stomach.
