"One of them is yours," he said, sliding onto the stool beside her, "if you aren't above letting strangers buy you drinks."
She glanced at him, her lips quirking into a faint, dismissive smile. "Go away, Mike. I'm in a real rainy day, nostalgic mood, and trust me, you don't want to deal with that."
He chuckled, undeterred, and pushed the drink closer to her. "Oh, that's one side of Rachel Gunnar that I don't know yet."
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her gaze lingering a beat too long before she scoffed and grabbed the drink, downing it in one swift motion. The burn of the alcohol settled low in her stomach, matching the heat of his gaze. A drop escaped the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it off with the cuff of her expensive suit.
"Oh," he said, leaning back slightly. "That kind of mood."
She smirked, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, that kind of mood. You're still up for it?"
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