Page 69 of Huckleberry Hill
He went back into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle on top of the fridge. He cracked it open and poured a splash into two glasses.
“Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.
I took a sip of the bourbon and nodded. “Yep, that’s incredible.”
“Aged in charred American oak barrels and finished another year in a former sherry barrel,” he said. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
Warmth at his words—and the bourbon—poured through me.
“You good if I shower real fast?”
I nodded.
“You need any hot sauce or salsa to go with that quesadilla?”
I shook my head.
“Okay then.” He took another sip of his drink, left the glass on the coffee table, and then went to shower.
By the time he returned to the living room, the quesadilla was gone and I was nursing my drink.
Declan took the spot at the other end of the couch and picked up his bourbon. His dark hair was wet and even though he’d put on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt, he’d left his feet bare.
“You really do run hot,” I blurted out, pointing to his toes.
He wiggled them. “Yep. I do.”
I shuddered. “My hands are always cold. So are my feet. I sleep in socks even in summer.”
“That would drive me crazy,” he said. “You know what I love?”
“What?”
“When it’s winter and the wood stove is lit, and I’m under a heavy blanket, but there’s still a slight chill to the air.”
I closed my eyes. “Yeah. Nothing like falling asleep next to the fire.”
I opened my eyes and stared at him. He leaned over and unscrewed the bourbon and picked it up. Declan gestured to my glass. I held it out to him, and he topped it off.
Despite my full belly, my head was already starting to buzz. My skin was humming, warmth spreading through me.
“What’s your favorite thing about New York?” he asked after he topped off his drink.
“My sister and my friends.”
“You miss them?”
“Yeah,” I admitted.
He took a hefty swallow. “Have you talked to your ex since the split?”
All the warmth I’d been feeling suddenly disappeared. Bitterness coated my tongue. “No. I haven’t talked to him. Why would I?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I thought he would’ve come to his senses and begged you to take him back by now.”
“That’ll never happen.”
“What? Him begging you to take him back, or you going back to him?”
