“I guess so.” He lifted his beer and took a long drink, then set it down in a way that said he was done with that question. He wasn’t playing anymore, then. Shana just didn’t know it yet. “So, Honor, tell me somethin’. You a big tequila fan these days?”
“Oh come on. I had to order something. You used Finn to call me out on that.” Really, I’d regretted it as soon as I’d said it. The only hard alcohol I’d ever drunk was some peach schnapps that Lilah got once, and that was pretty nasty. Other than that, it was a beer here and there, but not because it tasted good. That was just what you walked around a party with. I picked mine up and took a big gulp. Since we were in a bar and all.
“That’s fine,” Rusty said. “I just didn’t know you could handle the hard stuff.” He raised his bottle casually for another sip.
“I should be able to. Why wouldn’t I? It can’t be that bad, right?”
“Nah, it’s not that bad.” He sat back with a wide grin and watched Shana, who was weaving her way back to us, tray held high above her head.
When she got to the table, she took two more beers off the tray first, then set down in front of me what looked way bigger than I thought a shot glass should be. “It’s a double,” she said. “On the house.”
This was gonna be bad. “Thank you.” I smiled up at her, trying not to look scared of it. I slid it closer to me, spilling some on my hand. Oh god. I could smell it from far away.
Rusty took his and turned to Shana with a smile as she set down a dish of limes. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Burgers’ll be up soon, okay? Enjoy.” She hustled off to tend to the bar, which was now filling up with cowboys, mostly older guys milling around in boots and palm-leaf hats.
Rusty looked at me like he was working hard to keep a straight face, then he licked the back of his hand and picked up the salt shaker.
“What are you doing?”
He sprinkled salt over the wet spot. “I’m takin’ this shot. Salt?”
Apparently this was how you took a shot of tequila. With salt. I stuck my hand out.
He grinned. “Did you want me to lick it for you?”
“Ew. No.” I pulled my hand back and licked it myself. “This is weird. Are you messin’ with me?”
“No,” he said, sprinkling salt on my hand. “You lick the salt, take the shot, then suck on one of these.” He put a lime wedge between the thumb and forefinger of my salted hand, then slid the shot over to my free hand. “Pick your glass up now.”
I did, and Rusty grabbed himself a lime, then raised his glass in his other hand. He actually expected me to do this. Right now. The smell of it was enough to make me wanna heave. My heart sped up. I was just gonna have to get it down as fast as I could without thinking about it. But oh, god, it was gonna be nasty.
“To Finn,” Rusty said, clinking my glass.
“To Finn,” I echoed. For a brief second I wondered what he’d think of this. Then I licked the salt off my hand, just like Rusty did, which was gross, but that was nothing compared to the nasty burn of the tequila I threw down my throat. Everything in me shivered and tried to gag it back up, but I forced it down, then jammed the lime in my mouth, hard.
“Nicely done,” Rusty said from across the table. He licked his lips and went for his beer.
I kept the lime pressed to my teeth and breathed through my nose, willing the shot to stay in my stomach, where it now swam around all warm and tingly. When I was pretty sure it was gonna stay put, I took the lime out.
“That,” I said, grabbing for my beer, “was horrible.” I took a good, long gulp that washed away the last of the burn and gave me a new appreciation for beer, then I set the half-empty bottle on the table and shook my head at Rusty. “Ugh. No tequila. Ever again.”
24
“YOU SHOULD TRY SOME MORE TEQUILA!” I yell across the table to Rusty. “IT’LL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!”
He laughs and says something I can’t hear because the music is so loud. Who cares. Wade Bowen’s up on the stage with his cute raspy twang and his guitar, and out on the dance floor everyone’s spinning and girls are flying up in the air and I’m gonna go out there too. I belong out there.
I scooch around the curve of the booth to Rusty’s side so he can hear me, then loop my arm through his and pull. “WE SHOULD DANCE! C’MON!” I twirl my finger around in the air. “BECAUSE THIS IS A REALLY GOOD SONG!”
Rusty leans away from me, laughing. “Goddamn, you’re drunk. And loud. You should maybe test out standing up first.” He nods at the couple, maybe three, empty rounds on the table.
“Whatever, I’m fine.” I take my arm back. “You’re no fun. I’m gonna go get one of those cowboys to dance with.” I go to scoot out of the booth for the guy I’ve been watching all night. He’s tall and cute and does this little move where he flips his hat off his head whenever he spins a girl. I want him to spin me and flip his hat.
Rusty grabs my arm. “Lemme finish this beer. Then we’ll dance.”
“Promise? I don’t believe you.”
“I promise.”
“Fine.” I grab his beer out of his hand and take a drink, and he just shakes his head. “What? I’m helping you. So we can dance.”
“Okay, have at it then.”
I go for another drink, and it’s kinda warm and not very good. But Rusty hits me with those green eyes of his and smiles, and that is very good. I wonder if he knows I just thought that. Oh crap, he does know. That’s why he’s still smiling. I should change the subject.