I throw caution to the wind, downing the whole drink in one gulp. It’s smooth, better than any whiskey I’ve ever had. It still leaves a warm sensation as it drops down into my stomach.

“No, no, no,” she squares her shoulders chiding me. “That wasn’t some shot of cheap whiskey. That was apple bourbon in an Old Fashioned, and you just wasted it.”

“My apologies, Your Highness.” I bow to her dramatically. “I bequeath to you, show mercy unto me and recreate this magnificent beverage I promise to treat it with the utmost respect.”

She laughs. It’s almost a cackle, but it suits her. “Fortunately, after your speech, I figured you were the type of guy to need a second drink fast.” She hands me a near identical drink from the counter in front of her.

I smile tightly at her jab. “Thanks.” I sip this drink, slowly. It’s actually pretty great. “So how long have you been bartending?”

“A few years.” She scoots over to talk more casually. “I used it to put me through school when waiting tables wasn’t enough, and I turned twenty-one. Now I just do it here and there for fun.”

“And you think bartending at some idiots’ wedding is fun?”

“Well, one of them is a fool, and the other is my cousin,” she admits with a broad smile.

“Really?” I stare back to look at the bride and groom now on the dance floor. “Which one?”

The blonde puckers her lips amused at my confusion. Her expression is mildly stoic, but it cracks under a shit-eating grin. Man, her smile is gorgeous. “Claire.”

I feel like a giant douche. “Wow, I’m sorry, I don’t see the family resemblance.”

“Don’t be.” She shrugs before taking someone else’s cup to refill. “I’m adopted. I don’t even know what I am. I could be a fairy, or from another planet, and my family would still love me. Isn’t that right, Ben?” She pats the man, who looks to be about my age, on the cheek.

Ben, with his three inches on me, turns to size me up. He sneers a little bit before turning back to the bartender. “Seriously, Jade? Stop talking to lover-boy.”

Jade leans over the bar to punch him square in the chest. It looks a little painful, honestly. “I’m just doing the job you volunteered me for, Ben,” his sister growls. “Take your shitty IPA before I find Mom and tell her to set you up with one of the single girls with her in the choir.”

Ben visibly pales, scurrying off in a flash toward a cocktail table in the back.

“Ouch! Not the choir girls. That was rough.” I look back at her, biting the laugh. Jade’s still glaring in his direction.

“Do you have any siblings?” she asks, cleaning the counter.