Jameson was so intoxicated with her beauty that Becca realized she could ask him to do just about anything and he’d comply sheepishly. She had him dead to rights. But still she couldn’t account for those warm fuzzy feelings that overtook her every time he looked at her with those cute puppy dog eyes.

Don’t forget the photos, Becca thought to herself.

“So, uh. Should we ask for menus or something?” Jameson asked. “I’m starving.”

“Does this look like the kind of place that serves food?” Becca countered. “I’m sure we can find something agreeable for you, Mr. Tequila Sunrise.“

Jameson cringed and, as if she could sense her presence was needed, Old Bess sauntered over with her gritty voice, “So what’ll it be, doll?”

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Becca said. “And could we have a round of Irish Car Bombs?”

Old Bess returned moments later with the first round.

“What should we drink to?” Becca asked.

“To finally being together.”

“To finally being together,” Becca repeated with a twisted smile.