A quiet curse. That hurt, it did. He covered her offending fingers with one wide palm of his own before pushing up off the bench. He took her with him.

"There's another watering hole, eh? Over that, uh..." Sharpe squinted across the square. Seventh Heaven. "Over that restaurant, I suppose. Miss Summers cannot stop you there."

Evidently, he didn't believe her when she told him she wasn't a drunk. Too many drunks had tried to tell him they weren't drunks; he wasn't going to fall easily for that ploy. No siree.