She left to retrieve his drink without so much as another word. He tried not to stare as she chose the bottle and the glass, plunking a large ice cube into it before pouring him two fingers of what looked like relatively cheap bourbon. Her movement was fluid and graceful. She was just a couple of inches shorter than Phil, whom Daniel put as a couple of inches shorter than his own six foot one.

Phil muttered something to her that made her smile and shake her head as she walked back to Daniel with his drink. The smile transformed her. It was light and pure and filled with humor. He didn’t think he would ever be able to get enough of that smile.

So lost was he in her smile and movements that he startled when she set his drink down. He swirled it around. Say something. Conversation was not coming easy. Forget conversation—speaking was a challenge. Annika walked away.

Daniel stared at the drink. It wasn’t that he couldn’t control how much he drank. It was what happened to him when he did. He let everyone believe that he had stopped drinking because he couldn’t afford to lose his job, but the truth was something darker.

“Aren’t you going to drink it?” Annika was back, a look of bewilderment on her face.

“I don’t drink.”

“You know this is a bar?” She raised her eyebrows and spoke slowly, as if he were daft. “And that is a drink.”

He could watch her talk forever.

“Yes.” Wow, he was a stirring conversationalist. Why was he here? He should just drop some cash and leave and never return. No good was going to come of this. There was a reason he didn’t get involved with women. Just like there was a reason he didn’t drink bourbon.

She shrugged and started to leave again.

“I’m not an alcoholic.” The words spilled out of him.

“Okay. If you say so.” She started walking away.

“In case you were thinking I was some sort of alcoholic, testing myself or something.”

“Whatever.” The smile was gone, replaced by impatience.

“It’s just that the effects of alcohol remind me...of things.” Things he needed to forget. Why was he explaining himself? “Anyway, I haven’t had a drink in a while.”

“Listen, I’m not your AA counselor or whatever. Drink it, don’t drink it, I do not care. Either way, you owe me eight bucks.”

Daniel stared at her. She wore her brashness like a shield. Like something she could put on as needed. Or take off. He had a feeling it did not come off very often or for just anybody.

“Hey, Annika.” A young man with a very trim beard and glasses nodded as he walked past Annika and donned an apron similar to hers.

Annika’s face brightened. “Hey, Bobby.”