I glanced at Austin. He looked at me.
“Well, do you want to try whites?” I asked him.
“I want the experience. You lead.”
“Okay, but here’s the thing.” I took in his robust chest, thick arms, trim but not small hips, and powerful thighs. “You’re a big stack of muscle. How long will it take you to feel alcohol? Because I refuse to take part in this if I’m the only ridiculous one. We’ve already been down that road. It’s an embarrassing road.”
“You weren’t ridiculous, you were hilarious.”
I raised my eyebrows, waiting.
His crooked smile made him incredibly handsome. “I can hold out longer than you, but not as long as Niamh.”
“Not as long as Niamh could be anything. She’s an endless pit.”
“I’ll keep on your level, how’s that?” Austin said, still wrestling with that smile. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t just let it gleam. He looked better for it and I liked the view. “Somehow. You don’t have much tolerance.”
Donna poured out a taste for me and a full glass for Austin.
“No tolerance?” I said, aghast. “I drank a bottle and a half of wine the other night.”
“Yes.”
I lifted my eyebrows at him. He returned the expression.
“Well. I’m not going to try and work on it. You can just forget it,” I said, turning fully toward the counter. “That way lies alcoholism.”
“Wait…is she a Jane?” Donna asked.
I threw up my hands. “What is with this town? I thought small towns were supposed to be welcoming. I am not a freaking tourist. I’m only in here because Austin asked me to come. That’s it. I have a job. Let it go, people.”
“Jess is the one that just moved into the Ivy House,” Austin explained.
Donna gave a long, drawn out, “Oh.” Clearly she’d heard of me.
“Jess, a Jane is not a tourist.” He paused while I grimaced at the taste of the wine.
“Yikes. This one is…tart,” I said. “And not in a good way.”
“You might need to let it breathe a little,” Donna said, moving that bottle to the side.
“It might be kinder just to let it die,” I murmured.
“So that we’re on equal footing.” Austin downed his glass.
“Good God, man, no! You’re not going to enjoy today if you do that.”
“I haven’t been drunk in…years.”
“Fine, but there are better ways to go about it.”
“After last night, I need to get drunk.”
I tapped an air microphone. “Is this thing on? Bud, I just said there were other ways to go about it.”
“Maybe after today I’ll like wine.”
“Oh my God, this was hopeless before it began.” I threw up my hands as Donna glided out of the room. “I don’t even care, either. Keep charming everyone, brother. I want the preferential treatment, because I’m still going to have fun.”
“So. Are you ready?” he asked, his mood sobering.
“For all of this?” I waggled my finger as he reached over the bar and then filled up his glass. “Not really.”
“Don’t worry about me—”
“Can’t help it. Chugging wine is absurd.”
Donna glided back in with a tiny smile curling her lips. She clunked down a shot glass and a bottle of Scotch. “Maybe this’ll make things a little…less terrible.” She then put a row of freshly opened wine bottles on the counter and met Austin’s eyes. “From this one…” She moved her finger down the row and stopped on the last. “To this. Let me know if you want anything. If anyone comes in, make them leave until you’re ready.” She nodded and made her way back out.
“Well, now you’ll have to buy something from here,” I said. “She’s too nice not to. Hopefully the wine gets better.”
“Jacinta.” His voice sucked all my focus to him. “We use the term Jane for non-magical people. The bar you were in the other night—my bar? Except for a couple of people, everyone there was magical. Niamh is magical. So are Earl and Edgar. So am I. So is Ivy House. Magic is one-hundred-percent real, and almost always kept from those who are not magical.”
I couldn’t even laugh because of his special ability to make me believe the things that came out of his mouth. In this, just like in most if not all things, he was supremely confident, as though he spoke from a place of authority and experience. What he’d just said, to him, was absolutely real. I could tell that he believed it with every fiber of his being.
I chuckled uncomfortably, because what else could I do? He might not wear a cape, but he was still clearly certifiable.
“You’ve heard stories about werewolves, right?” he said. “Vampires, mages, druids…”
“Not druids, no. Not sure what those are.”
“Fine, whatever. Well, they are all real. Edgar is a vampire. Earl is a gargoyle. Niamh is—”
“No.” I held up my hands, shaking my head. “No, you have to stop. You have to. Have you always believed this, or has the town rubbed off on you?”