Suddenly, he pulled away from her like a man withdrawing from an addiction, hands lifted in mock surrender as he took several steps back.
She raised a brow, silently asking what the hell was that in her head. But she didn't say a word. Instead, she leaned her back against the wall, mastering the art of calm breathing while watching him retreat.
Without a word, he reached for her hand, joined their fingers, and led her down the stairs into the living room. He stopped at the bar, releasing her hand with a slight smirk. "I'm your bartender tonight. Anything you want, yummy, is on me."
A soft laugh escaped her, her doe eyes wide with something close to wonder. She looked like a girl being offered her first drink at a bar, perhaps because, in some ways, she was. Philip hadn't always allowed her to go out, but she'd never enjoyed it anyway. What's the point of drinking at a bar if you've got a husband? Her to-go excuse."
