He sighed and opened his mouth to speak when their waiter returned. “How’s the beer?”
“Horrible, actually. Could I have something else instead? I was thinking a mojito but that’s not very Irish. Maybe an Irish whiskey. Whatever is good.”
Mac was impressed that she was ordering whiskey. Most women he knew shied away from the stuff, but he admired any woman who could handle it.
Quirking an eyebrow at him, Mac knew he owed Christine a story. Thankfully he had plenty. He just wasn’t sure which she would want to hear.
“When I was just out of college I worked for a bank. Started out as a teller but got the attention of one of the managers. I was invited out with a group of them right before St. Patrick’s Day. One of the guys had landed a new account and was celebrating. He said he was going to drink us all under the table.”
“This is not going to end well,” Christine mumbled.
Mac shook his head and continued, “The others took it easy on him, but he goaded me. I didn’t drink much at first but the others started in on me too. Before long I was doing shots and chasing them with beer. By the time it all caught up to me the other guy was beyond drunk. He got a cab home and didn’t make it to work the rest of the week because he was in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. I quit not too long after that.”
“Why?” Christine asked, apparently baffled why someone would quit a perfectly good job.
“I hated myself for doing that to him. I knew he couldn’t handle drinking with me, but I did it anyway.”
“I bet I could handle you,” Christine said, a glint in her eye. “We should try it tonight. Break the ice.”