She’d drunk too many whiskey and sodas, but they tasted good—a little sweet—and went down really smooth. How many had she had so far? Four? Five? She started counting on her fingers, which earned her a questionable expression from Brent. Yeah, this was her fifth. That was way too many to swallow on an empty stomach. She rarely ate dinner out, but the brothers made the call. Probably because she’d rubberized the steaks Sunday night and charred the pork chops last night. But hey, it’s not like she hadn’t forewarned them about her cooking skills when they’d decided to stay. She didn’t drink often either, but on the few occasions she had, she limited herself to one or two to avoid this buzzed feeling. She couldn’t handle liquor well, and proved it Saturday night at Whiltby’s party when she’d gotten tipsy drinking only three. But that was Jared’s fault, and she’d needed to unwind. Sleeping with Brent for the past three nights proved how much she hated sleeping alone.
