“I’m full of funny ideas.” I nudge three of the shot glasses in her direction and pick up my first one. “Here’s to the heat. Not the heat that brings down barns and shanties, but the heat that brings down bras and panties.” I down my shot to the sound of the bartender laughing.

Shiloh takes her shot without so much as a wince. I knew I liked this woman. She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible toast.”

“Do me one better.”

“I will.” She licks her lips and picks up the second shot. “May you work like you don’t need the money, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like no one is watching, screw like it’s being filmed, and drink like a true Irishman.”

I snort and take my shot. The tequila burns all the way down. There was a time I could hold my own with any fraternity boy, but I stopped drinking foolishly years ago. Being the heir to the Amazon faction means putting aside anything resembling weakness, and too much alcohol is exactly that. A weakness. Not that it matters now. I might still be the heir, but I’m also a glorified prisoner.

I clear my throat, not liking the direction of my thoughts. “That was poetic, love. Are you Irish? They always get poetic when they drink.”

“No.” She shrugs. “It's a toast Iris gives when she’s feeling nostalgic.” Shiloh makes a face at the third shot. “My parents would hate toasts like this, even if we were Irish. Far too crass for them.”

It’s the tiniest nugget of information, the smallest of cracks I fully intend to worm through. I run the tip of my finger along my shot glass, biting back a smile when Shiloh follows the movement. “Uptight, were they?”

“Fanatically religious, I’m afraid.” Her generous mouth turns down, her gaze going somewhere dark.

Can’t have that. Her lips were made for smiling, not frowning. Impossible to seduce a pretty woman when she’s thinking sad thoughts. I pause. Well, shit. I only get like this when I’m feeling tipsy. “It’s entirely possible that I’m a little drunk.” Whoops.

Shiloh giggles. Giggles. “It’s entirely possible that I am, too.” She grins at me, firmly back in the present. “Well, go on. Can you beat that toast?”

“Of course I can.” I lift my glass and hold her gaze. “To the kisses we’ve snatched, and vice versa.”

We take the shots, and Shiloh sets hers down with a clink. “Monroe, you’ve got a positively wicked mouth.”

“I know.” I grin at her. “I’d love to show it to you sometime.”

Pink steals across Shiloh’s face. “You’re Broderick’s Bride.”