Until Cece (Happily Ever Alpha World)

Which brings me to now, counting the last of my tips and knowing not a single penny of it could be put toward filing for divorce because I need every spare cent I make to keep my household running.

“What’s that face, naekkeo?”

I jump in my seat, my eyes shooting up to look at Winston on the other side of the wooden bar top. He calls me that so often now, even in front of everyone, and when I googled it, it’s the Korean word for sweetheart, a generic nickname most men use here in Tennessee, but with a Winston twist. It makes me smile despite my angsty mood.

I bite my lip in consideration, and then I go for it. “I could really use a drink. Think the boss would find out if we partake in a couple shots?”

His sexy lips quirk upward at the corners, and I have to shoo away the butterflies heading south from their usual place in my belly. “He doesn’t mark the bottles, so I think we’ll be safe,” he teases, and I smile softly. “What’s your poison?”

I tilt my head to the side to look at the wall of liquor bottles behind him. “Well, I’m not much of a shot-taker. I still mostly just drink wine with my sister when the occasion calls for it. But I think I want something a little more than a Kiss on the Lips. Bartender’s choice,” I tell him, and he narrows his eyes on me before turning to the shelves. My cheeks heat when I realize the words that just came out of my mouth. But even so, my eyes lock on his ass the moment he faces away from me, and I quickly glance away before I’m caught ogling his amazing butt in those jeans.

He turns a half circle once more with a bottle in his hand, pulling out two shot glasses before lifting the lid on the tray of garnishes.

“Oh hell. You’re not gonna take it slow with me, are you?” I prompt, seeing he’s setting up shots of tequila with lime wedges and salt, and when his hand holding the bottle pauses midpour, I look up to meet his heated gaze, once again registering what I just said without meaning to. My face flushes even more. “I mean with the alcohol. I thought you might choose something gentle, like a schnapps or something. But no, you went for the freaking Patrón.”

He can’t hide the wicked grin on his face at my flustered tone. “You look like you need the hard stuff, not the… gentle,” he practically purrs, and I clench somewhere I don’t think I’ve ever clenched before from arousal.

I clear my throat, trying to act like I didn’t pick up on his innuendo, or that it at least hadn’t affected me. “You’re very intuitive. But I’ve never done a shot of tequila before, so you have to promise not to make fun of me if it doesn’t go down very well.”

“I can promise you that. But—” He pauses what he’s saying to finish pouring the tequila into the silver shaker with ice, shakes it all up, and then carefully pours the clear liquid into the two awaiting shot glasses. “—Patrón should go down nice and easy. It’s strong but smooth, especially when it’s icy cold,” he explains, and I nod, taking his word for it. I don’t know why, but I trust this man. There’s just something about him, which says a lot, seeing how there’s not a man on this earth I’ve ever been able to trust aside from my stepdad Chaz.

He slides the tiny glass with the lime wedge on the rim across the bar to me before setting a saltshaker next to it. I watch, mesmerized when he licks the side of his fist before sprinkling salt on it, never breaking his intense gaze. It’s not until he prompts me to do the same that I snap out of his spell and timidly touch my tongue to the place where my thumb attaches to my hand. I don’t meet his eyes as I shake some salt onto the wet spot my mouth left behind.

When I do glance back up at him, his eyes are almost molten, and I feel my panties grow wet at just the sight of him. My breath catches, and I swallow, trying to get my bearings, even though it seems impossible around this man.

“Now, take your lime in one hand, and the shot glass in the other. When you’re ready, lick the salt, shoot the tequila, then bite your lime. Ready?” His voice is so deep, so sexy it makes my eyes shutter.

“Shouldn’t… shouldn’t we make a toast or something?” Is that my voice? All breathy and sultry?

He smirks and lifts a brow. “How about—” He lifts his glass, and I do the same. “—to a new beginning?”