Andrew lifted an eyebrow. “In what way?”
“He an inventor. Computer stuff. He has brilliant ideas, but he sometimes has trouble executing them. Someday someone’s going to realize his potential and he’ll be in huge demand.”
“The boy’s young yet,” Timbo commented, setting the three glasses and a large mason jar filled with amber liquid on the table. “His day will come. And so will yours, little girl.”
Nicky dimpled. “So you keep telling me.”
Her uncle beamed affectionately at her and handed her a glass half filled with the unlabeled beverage. And then he poured a glass for Andrew, giving him at least double the amount he’d offered Nicole. “Good stuff,” he assured Andrew. “Made it myself.”
While Andrew eyed the brew doubtfully, Timbo filled the remaining glass for himself and hefted it in front of him. “Happy New Year,” he said, and tossed back a third of his drink in one long gulp.
Andrew watched as Nicole repeated the toast and took a hearty swallow of her own drink. She didn’t grab her throat or turn purple or anything suspicious, so he lifted his own glass. “To the New Year,” he murmured, and tipped the glass to his lips.
The potent beverage nearly knocked him out of his seat.
Andrew had never actually sampled battery acid, but he suspected that it would have tasted very much like the deceptively harmless-looking liquid he’d just swallowed. His throat burned, his eyes watered, his stomach clenched. His ears buzzed; he wondered if smoke was pouring out of them.
It was, without doubt, the most revolting concoction he’d ever tasted. And Nicole was just sitting there, smiling and sipping as though it were sparkling spring water. Timbo had already drained his own glass and was refilling it.
“Drink up, boy,” he urged Andrew heartily. “I’ve got plenty.”
Andrew looked at Nicole with narrowed eyes. Damn it, she was laughing at him again. He just knew she was, though her expression was sweetly innocent.
Like the hazardous amber liquid, Nicole Holiday wasn’t nearly as innocuous as she appeared.
Apparently, Timothy Holiday did not believe in small talk. After finishing his second drink, he glanced at Andrew’s glass. “You aren’t drinking. Somethin’ wrong with it?”
Andrew cleared his throat. “They pumped me full of painkillers at the hospital,” he explained, shamelessly falling back on his injuries. “Can’t risk mixing the pills with alcohol, even as good as this is.”
Timbo seemed satisfied. He nodded. “Had your New Year’s toast, anyway. For luck. Nicky, take the boy on home and let him get some rest. He don’t need to be gallivantin’ around like this after saving your hide. Don’t worry about the dog. I’ll take care of her.”
“I know you will, Uncle Timbo.” Nicole rose obligingly and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back when I have more time to visit.”
“You do that,” the old man said gruffly. “And take care of yourself, you hear? I don’t want you takin’ on any more blowhards with guns. You’re much more precious than any sparkly stones, real or otherwise, you hear?”
Andrew could see that the blunt words had touched Nicole. Misty-eyed, she kissed her great-uncle again. “I love you, too, Uncle Timbo.”
Andrew shook the old man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
Timbo nodded curtly. “Come back anytime. Don’t get many visitors out here.”
“Maybe that has something to do with the barbed wire around the place?” Andrew suggested with a faint smile.
Timbo gave another bark of laughter. “Might be. Truth is, I’d rather spend time with my animal friends than most of the folks I’ve come across.”
Andrew had never met anyone quite like Timothy Holiday, but he found that he rather liked the old man. He wondered about Timbo’s background; he would ask Nicole during the drive home.
He didn’t know how she managed to stay upright in those heels on the rough path back to the road, but she handled it amazingly well, leaning against him only lightly for balance. He slipped an arm around her waist, ostensibly for support, but mostly because he enjoyed the feel of her.
His head was swimming a bit. Probably a combination of exhaustion, adrenaline, painkillers and one gulp of Timbo’s lethal potion. Not to mention his intimate proximity to Nicole.
He stumbled on a root. He regained his balance quickly, but it embarrassed him to be the one fumbling around when she was balanced on three-inch spikes.
Nicole pressed her hands against his chest. “You okay?” she asked, pausing on the path to look up at him.
Damn, but she was beautiful in the moonlight, he thought, staring down at her. Just as she’d been in chandelier light and neon light and shadows. He couldn’t remember ever looking at a woman and wanting her so badly his hands trembled.
He wanted Nicole that badly. And the depth of his hunger shook him, considering the snippets he’d learned about her in the past hours. She was so very different from what he’d been looking for in a woman; yet, oddly enough, he felt as though she were everything he’d ever desired.