Chapter 8

That it would take three shots to even feel the tiniest buzz was irritating at times. While she wanted to keep her wits about her, she also yearned for the blissfulness others seemed to have when they drank, like all their fears no longer made a difference, at least while the effects lasted. After the night she had, and the nerves twisting her belly into a knot at the thought of discovering who was on the other end of this bewildering draw, trying to reach that sort of peace was too irresistible to defy.

Faster than anyone could politely anticipate being served in a place this packed, the shots were placed in front of her, laid on a napkin with the man's number scrawled on it. Slamming them back one after the other, Pearl set the now-empty glasses back down, feigning she hadn't seen the writing.

Just as she began to turn away, the bartender laid a hand on Pearl's forearm, stopping her midmotion. Her heart skipped a beat, her body immediately beset with the conflicting de