Hazel told herself it had a lot to do with the fact she would probably never see him again. It was something about opening up to strangers that let tongues loosen. Heck, she’d never told her one time therapist this much about her life. It had to be his eyes. More than the emerald shade beckoning for her to tell all her secrets, it was the way they lighted with interest. Depth and amusement flitted behind his gaze. So by the third martini they felt like old friends. The waiter came by with the check and Brice placed his wide, long fingers over it. He was keeping his end of the bargain. She smiled again, more from the warm feeling the alcohol than because of his appearance—at least that’s what she told herself. “I feel like I’ve been talking non-stop, especially since you only gave me a summary of your life.” “That’s okay, and I’m not chatty.” Hazel shook her head. In a daze, she felt fluid and warm in parts of her body that she’d considered dead. “Tell me more about you.”
