“Mostly German and Norwegian, but a lot of everything else mixed in. What about you?”

Lindsey stops in front of our table with a smile on her face. “Hey. Can I get you something else?”

“Yes, please,” Cash drawls. “Two more shots of Jack, please and thank you, darlin’.”

Just like in the car on our way here, there’s a slight twang in his voice that I haven’t heard before.

“Sure thing, babe. Be right back with those. Your pizza should be out soon, as well.”

He watches her walk away before dragging his gaze back to me. “I’m Italian. My mother was born here, but my father moved here when he was a teenager. They also met in high school.”

“High school sweethearts… very cool. And they’re still together?”

“They are, happily.” He takes a big swig of his drink as Lindsey returns with our shots and the pizza. They have some of the best pizza I’ve ever had on the west coast. Every time I’m in town, I come here.

“Here you guys go. Can I get you anything else while I’m here?”

“No, I think we’re—”

I’m cut off mid-sentence by Cash, the lush. “May as well bring us two more of these.” He lifts the shot glass in the air, tossing me a shit-eating grin and a wink.

I can’t help but laugh as our server walks away. “You really are trouble, aren’t you?”

“I prefer the term fun.” Pushing one of the shots across the table toward me, he picks his up, lifting it and dramatically clearing his throat for a toast. “To more whiskey, because those choices aren’t questionable enough yet.” His shot glass clanks on the table before he tosses it back.

Following suit, I throw mine back, the whiskey leaving a trail of burning desire on its way down.

“What about you?” he asks, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a bite.

I lift a brow at him. “What about me?”

“Your parents. They still together?”

I should’ve known this was coming, what with us talking about his parents. Truthfully, I normally don’t mind questions about my folks, but it’s kind of a mood killer. Not that I should be setting any sort of mood with my student, so I may as well answer it.

“Uh, they actually died when I was eighteen.”

His eyes snap to mine, pizza falling onto his plate. “I’m so sorry, Professor Philips. I had no idea.”

“How could you have known? It’s fine. And please… call me Stone. Hey, how’s the pizza? Amazing, right?”

He looks skeptical about changing the subject, but lets it go. “Ya, man. It’s bomb.”

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Cash DeMarco

Way to fucking go, Cash. Ask the one fucking question that’s an immediate buzzkill.