I tamped down the jealousy, deciding not to further evaluate why I’d have that particular emotion, and swung back to the topic.
“I’m looking at a cold case he gave me.”
“The Harper murder,” she mumbled.
I was indeed looking into the Becca Harper murder.
“How’d you know?”
“Ethan’s got a soft spot. Kids. And Becca’s murder going unsolved has not set well with him for a long time. He’s pissed he’s not getting more resources from the department. So I’m not surprised he punted it to Triple Canopy. I’m just surprised he didn’t do it a long time ago. It’s been on his desk over a year.”
Shiloh was correct; Ethan was pissed. He thought more man-hours should be allocated to the Harper case. The issue was fresh cases took precedent over a ten-year-old case. No one cared Ethan had a soft spot for kids.
“What about you?” I gestured to the tumbler of amber liquid. “Nothing says rough day like two fingers of whiskey.”
“Bourbon,” she corrected.
The bartender appeared in front of me and asked for my drink order.
“Rolling Rock in a bottle and a glass of what she’s having.”
With a nod and a smirk I didn’t understand, the man behind the bar turned and pulled down a bottle I couldn’t see and Shiloh chuckled.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She smiled.
Before I could ask what was up with the shit-eating grin a tumbler appeared in front of me. I took a sip and nearly gagged.
“Jesus fuck, woman. What the hell is this?”
“Baby…baby…baby,” she trailed off and sputtered a laugh.
“I’m not sure if you’re breaking out into a Justin Bieber song or TLC. Either way, it’s not helping me understand why’d you’d purposely drink this shit.”
She was still carrying on when the bartender came back with my beer.
“I didn’t know bourbon this horrible was available for consumption,” I told the guy. “If you wouldn’t mind dumping those and bring back Maker’s Mark, I’d appreciate it.”
“Hers, too?” he asked with a smile.
“Yeah. I fear if she drinks that her gut will rot.”
“You ain’t lying. I’ve worked here for years and no one’s ever ordered Baby Hudson. I reckon most folks know to steer clear.”
Ah, Baby Hudson. That explained a lot.
The guy left with the shittiest tasting bourbon I’ve ever had the displeasure of sipping. I took a long, refreshing swig of my beer hoping it would wash down the oak and fire still lingering on my tongue.
“Baby Hudson. What in God’s name made you order that crap?”
“The bottle.” She pointed at the wall in front of us lined with bottles. “I don’t drink whiskey or bourbon. It was the first one I saw so I ordered it.”
“Consider this an intervention, then.”
“Intervention?”
“Yeah, babe, I’m intervening to save you a hangover from hell and your tastebuds from being permanently damaged. And I’m introducing you to good bourbon.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing you came. I right like my tastebuds. But now I’m staging my own intervention. Justin Bieber?”
“You casting aspirations on The Biebs?”
“Um. Yeah.” She drew out the last word like I was an idiot.
“The Biebs is my boy,” I lied.
Shiloh’s eyes narrowed and she asked, “Are you fucking with me?”
I wish I was fucking with her a whole different way that’d leave us both way more satisfied than a few laughs at a bar ever could.
“Yeah, babe, I’m fucking with you.”
“Thank God. I was going to break up with you.”
I blinked, then I blinked again against the beauty that was a smiling, teasing Shiloh.
“Can’t have you breaking up with me before we’ve even had a game of balls.”
“Um…”
Without thinking my hand came off the bar and brushed a heavy fall of hair off her shoulder before I leaned over and brought my mouth to her ear.
“I like the way you think, Shiloh. But I was talking about pool. The bar is named Balls for a reason. I’d offer you up a different kind of game but I wouldn’t want you to break your rules.”
“Rules?”
Breathy.
Fucking hell.
“Dinner before groping. And before you ask if I’m trying to get into your pants again, I’ll remind you, I don’t try to do anything. I assess what I want, plan, and execute. With trying comes a possibility of failure. And I never fail.”
“Never?” she asked and dipped her chin, exposing more of the sexy column of her neck.
“Nope.”
I leaned closer.
“So say you wanted to get into my pants, you’re saying you’d get in there?”
I was being outplayed. Shiloh knew exactly what she was doing.