She furrowed her brow. “You talk to your sister every day—it seems like you’re close.”

He smirked at her. “I knew you were eavesdropping.”

A slight pink flush poked through her beautiful brown skin, and he momentarily forgot how to draw breath.

“Well, uh—yeah. Everyone knows that—you talk at the bar, and you don’t exactly whisper.” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt but released it in one quick motion as she locked her gaze on his. “Her name is Emma, and it seems she worries about whether you eat or not.” She rolled her eyes. “Common knowledge.”

He laughed, but his heart thumped at the knowledge that she had paid such close attention to him, and he planted his gaze in hers. “We are close. I just—don’t see my nephew often.” He shrugged it off, better to close the topic. “It’s fine.” The scant space between them was charged with their not touching.

“I suspect it has something to do with this bourbon.” She tilted her head in the direction of the glass she had emptied. “We don’t have to talk about it, but it’s okay to not be fine.”

He couldn’t have looked away from her if his life depended on it. “We, um...well, we all have issues.” He happily drowned in her attention.

She grinned. “You do come here almost every day and pay for bourbon that you stare at.” Her voice dropped. “That is most certainly not normal.”

“Very true. I’m trouble, and you’re probably better off keeping your distance.” He said the words in a rough whisper with little to no conviction as he leaned ever so slightly closer to her.

“Is that so?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

Daniel decreased the distance between them, shifting his gaze to her mouth. Everything around them fell away, his only thought how her lips would feel on his. “I’m really sorry that chopper came when it did.”

“Me, too.” Her words were barely a whisper, almost as if she didn’t want to break this spell.

Daniel gently touched his lips to hers. When she didn’t pull back, he pressed his mouth to hers, his heart racing even faster when she pressed back. She opened her mouth to him, allowing him to deepen their kiss. He placed his hand on her jaw, his fingers on her neck, and pulled her closer to him. She tasted sweet and smoky like his bourbon, and she kissed him back, leaning her body into him.

His other hand found her waist, and she moaned softly as his thumb grazed the small gap between her shirt and her jeans. He couldn’t get enough of her; he didn’t think he ever would. She pressed into him, as if she couldn’t get enough of him, either. They needed to come up for air, but right now breathing was overrated.