“All right, go for it,” she eventually invited. “What’s my drink?”
“Well … you’ve got an understated kind of style,” I said, flexing the muscles in my arms just enough to catch her attention. It was pretty much the main reason I rolled back my button-down shirt’s sleeves. A subtle, yet important part of the show. “So first off, I’m thinking you’re into the classics. A martini or an old-fashioned, maybe?”
“No.”
“No?” I let my gaze wander over her, trying to take in every detail and not get stuck staring at her breasts. It wasn’t easy, but fortunately I’m big into self-discipline. Eyes up. “Maybe you’re more of a straight down the line kind of girl. How about a beer?”
A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “I don’t mind beer. But that’s not what I was going to order.”
“Mm, a challenge. I like a challenge.”
“God. I’m really not a challenge.” She exhaled. “I take it this is your trick, guessing what people drink?”
“Usually I’m pretty good at it.”
“Sorry to ruin your winning streak.”
“Nah, that’s okay.” I grinned. “Mom always said I needed to be put in my place pretty often or my ego got out of hand.”
Something strange passed across her face. “Sounds like a good mom.”
“She’s a great mom. But let’s get back to talking about you,” I said, following my script. Women usually ate this smooth shit right up. Yet something in her gaze made me hesitate. “If you’d rather I just took your ord—”
“Absolutely not.” She gave me a teasing smile. “You promised me a magic trick, now you need to deliver. What did you say your name was?”
“Eric Collins.”
“Eric. Hi.”
“I’m the owner here.” It was only partly a lie and it made me look good. Successful.
“You are?” Her brows arched in surprise and she gave the place a looking over, taking it all in. I waited patiently. We’d worked damn hard to turn the dump into the cool bar and restaurant it was today. Raw brick walls and shining dark wood. Mirrors lined the wall behind the bar along with neat rows of bottles. Big windows to let in the light and some metal industrial touches.
“It’s a great place,” she said. “You must be very proud.”
“That I am.” I offered my hand and she slipped her slender, warm fingers into my palm. “Nice to meet you…”
“Jean Antal.”
“Jean. What a lovely name.”
Still holding onto my hand, she shrugged. “My mom was a David Bowie fan.”
“Can’t beat Bowie.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Guess that makes you the Jean Genie.”
“Ha. Yeah.” She gave another of those ball-tightening chuckles. I could happily listen to her do that all day long. Except suddenly the happy fell from her face. “It was her favorite song.”
Shit. Damn. I softened my tone. “Your mom passed?”
She blinked. “No.”
“No?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head, looking flustered. “Both of my parents are alive and well. I just meant it was her favorite song when I was young. That’s all. Nothing else.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“Hmm.” Her gaze fell to our still embracing hands and at roughly the speed of light the slight pressure of her grip and the warmth of her skin were gone. “Crap. I didn’t mean to paw at you.”
“Pawing is altogether encouraged.”
Startled laughter burst out of her. “Look at you with the long hair and that face and everything. You’re a hell of a flirt, Eric.”
“Thank you very much. You’re rather easy on the eyes yourself.” I smirked. “And I still owe you a trick.”
“Right, my drink,” she said, shoulders slouching as she relaxed. “Guess away.”
“Okay.” I squinted at her, searching for inspiration and trying not to get too distracted wondering what she’d look like naked and lying on my bed. It wasn’t easy. But like I said, self-discipline. “I’m going to say a black widow.”
She blinked. “A what widow?”
“A black widow. Blackberries, silver tequila, lime juice, and sugar syrup,” I said. “I think that’s what you should order.”
“And why should I order that?”
“It’s sweet but with a kick.” I gave her my best grin. “I think you’d like it.”
“So this has nothing to do with you suspecting me of murdering any husbands?”
“No, of course not.” I laughed. Then stopped. “Oh, man. You’re not married, are you? I mean, you are single, right?”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Relax, Eric.” Jean tucked in her chin, looking over the menu again with a faint frown. “I’m single.”
“Good.” I exhaled, smiling once more. “That’s good. Otherwise, asking you to dinner tonight would have been all sorts of awkward.”
She said nothing.
No matter. We could get back to that later. “I’ve never seen you in here before. Are you a local or just passing through?”
“Actually, I just moved to the area,” she said. “Today, in fact.”
“That’s great!”
As much fun as a one-nighter could be, I’d been thinking lately about perhaps getting more serious with someone. Maybe. Just to try it out, at least. It was entirely my idea; it had nothing to do with Nell’s daily lecturing.
The truth was that I was getting close to thirty. And a lot of heavy shit had gone down last year. It had been hardest on Nell most of all. But she’d bounced back, happily pregnant and with the right guy this time, Pat. It didn’t really make sense that I would be still struggling with it all.
Probably what was getting to me was just the fact that Joe was settling down with his new girlfriend. Joe, my brother. My younger brother. Who had never even been popular with the ladies, for fuck’s sake. Ever since Alex had come to town, however, he’d been walking around smiling like he’d won the jackpot.
Anyway, whatever the cause, I’d been feeling a little … I don’t know. Not lost. Just the thought had been hanging around in the back of my head. It didn’t seem as bad an idea as it would have a few years ago. Actually, this could be perfect. I drank in Jean’s stunning face and gorgeous curves. We could hang out together, catch some movies, do couple shit. Hold hands even. It would definitely show Nell I wasn’t some shallow fuckbot.
But I was getting ahead of myself.
“Where are you from originally?” I asked, getting back into the conversation.
“Jacksonville, Florida.”
“Yeah? You ever go to the Night Garden or Emory’s?”
Delight lit her face. “I love Emory’s, best club in town.”
“Passed through there a few years back on my way to Miami,” I said. With that energy and edge, I figured she might be from the party crowd. “Good atmosphere and the DJ was something else.”