“Or . . .” He let his words trail off.

“Or?” I repeated, far too hopeful.

“You could stay for a drink. I think we both deserve one after the days we’ve had. What do you say?”

The right, clearheaded choice was obvious. Go home. Pack my bag and get ready to start my new job in the morning.

Walk away from Noah Douglas and all his dangerous sexiness.

Problem was, I didn’t want to.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Just one drink,” I said.

“Do you have a preference?” he asked. “Beer? Wine?”

I grimaced. “Not wine. We no longer speak after this wicked one-night stand we had years ago.”

That made him laugh as he headed for a bar cart in the corner. “Do you want me to make you my supposedly favorite drink?”

“Sure. What’s your supposedly favorite drink?”

“Whiskey sour.”

“I’ve never had it.” Which meant I didn’t know how much alcohol was in it. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Noah had pulled out a bunch of different bottles and a metal shaker. “If I was trying to get you drunk, I would have grabbed the vodka.”

“Should I be worried about how fast you said that?”

“No. I was in the military. I know the best way to get drunk fast.” He was pouring syrups and liquids into the shaker.

“Were you a bartender in a movie, too?”

“There was an offer, but the deal didn’t come together. I did my research, just in case.”

He poured the drinks into glass tumblers and handed me one. “Do you want to go sit in the library?”

Again, that felt a little dangerous. But I said, “Yes.”

I followed behind him, remembering the room from before. I planned on sitting in one of the armchairs, but when we got there the only piece of furniture left was a couch. A very small, two-seater one.

“Shelby’s really cleaning you out, isn’t she?” I asked when I sat. He sat down close, facing me, and I had to refrain from scooting away. But whether that was to prove something to him or something to me, I wasn’t sure.

He took a sip of his drink. “I’m planning on staying here during the renovation, so she’s leaving me what she thinks I need and we’ll just move everything around as they work on different rooms. I couldn’t go to a hotel. I hate hotels.”

“That must be fun for someone who travels as much as you do.”

He raised an eyebrow in agreement, taking another drink.

I decided to take a drink, too. I grimaced after my first taste.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think this tastes like lemonade’s hardened older brother who has a full tattoo arm sleeve and a criminal record.”

He laughed, but I did take another drink. It tasted better now. Maybe his laughter had done that.

Or it was the alcohol.