Page 47 of Digging Up Love
“If you say so. But either way, can you put in a good word for me? Tell him if it’s condos, I want a ground-floor unit with pool access.” He grinned, then pivoted to yell at one of the runners. Grateful to make her escape, she ducked back out through the swinging doors.
Now planted on a stool between the grad students, Bill wore Dev’s Cubs hat backward, an arm slung across each paleontologist’s shoulders, which would’ve been a change for the better, except she didn’t need the crew getting all buddy-buddy with the locals. Not everyone would be as easy to put off as Tommy.
But confronting two tipsy dudes in the middle of the bar wouldn’t do anything to squelch interest. And if land developers was the running bet, she’d take those odds. Dinosaurs were a lot more far fetched than real estate. Deciding to let it be, Alisha shot Quentin a double thumbs-up to show the order was fixed.
Except he wasn’t sitting there anymore. In fact, he and the entire table had vanished, the two chairs left empty and forlorn. She made a circle of the bar and found Quentin carrying the table toward the corner, his forearms bunching with the strain.
“Just leave it there, man. Thanks.” One of the bartenders, Matt, shoved another table against the wall next to it.
Quentin stepped back, and Alisha caught his eye. “Didn’t like our spot by the door?”
“It’s Friday,” Matt said, clapping her on the shoulder.
She slapped a hand to her forehead. “Throwback night.”
“You got it, Ali.” Gracie appeared with their food, an apologetic smile on her face. “Sorry you guys got bumped, but we need the room. The Cardinals are one inning away from another loss, and I figured a diversion might go a long way to cool off hot tempers. You wanna eat over at the bar?”
Alisha looked toward Quentin, who gave a slight shake of his head. “No, we’re good,” she answered.
Gracie set their food down on one of the tables. “Suit yourselves.”
All the chairs were stacked in a wonky mess, so Alisha scooted up onto the tabletop, tucking her dress under her thighs. Quentin followed suit, sliding up next to her, their hips nearly touching. He passed over her plate, and she set it on the table behind her. “So, welcome to Hawksburg. Consider this your baptism by fire.”
He laughed and picked up his own burger. “This isn’t so bad. It’s like a reverse picnic.”
She took in their position, perched on the table rather than seated on a blanket on the ground. “Not quite so idyllic.”
“I’ve gotta disagree,” he said. “This is way better than a regular picnic. Less ants, for one.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Alisha made a show of checking under the table, but she almost slid off, and Quentin grabbed her armto steady her. His hand encircled her wrist, big and warm. “Careful, we can’t have you falling again.”
“Oh my gosh, just couldn’t resist bringing that up, could you?”
“In my defense, if you could’ve seen yourself ... I’ve never in my life seen someone so dirty.” He let go of her arm. “Er ...”
“It’s okay. Iwasdirty. Filthy, in fact.” Brazen in the tug of his magnetism, she held his gaze. “Good thing for showers.”
“Yeah.” His voice dipped low and husky. “Good thing.”
Alisha swallowed, consumed by the sudden thought of what he would taste like. Crisp beer and salty fries. From the unfocused look on his face, his mind was tracing a similar path.
The music cut off abruptly, and Quentin cleared his throat. He bumped her shoe with his. “It’s nice to see you laugh over it. Because if it was me”—he splayed his long fingers against his chest—“Iwould’ve been mortally embarrassed to face-plant in front of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Good thing I fell down in front of a dude, then.” She smirked and dug her elbow into his ribs.
“You’re the worst,” he said, in a tone that implied the opposite.
She ducked her head and rolled the skirt of her dress between her fingers. “Takes one to know one.” When she glanced up at him again, a look of intense concentration had replaced Quentin’s smile. “What?”
“Just contemplating the many, many ways I could repay you for all your smack talk.”
“Is that so?” She licked her lips and watched raw hunger consume Quentin’s features, a match for the desire coursing through her.
“LISTEN UP, PARTY PEOPLE!” Gracie shouted into a microphone, and it screeched with feedback. Alisha jumped at the noise and nearly tumbled off the table again. This time when Quentin looped his arm around her waist, he didn’t let go. A frisson tingled along her spine, warmth spreading in its wake.
Gracie tapped on the mike, and half the patrons covered their ears. “My main man Matt is coming around with Hula-Hoops. If you want one, raise your hand. You know the drill. Longest Hula-Hooper wins twenty bucks and a Back Forty T-shirt.” She flapped a tie-dyed shirt like a starting flag.
“You couldn’t pay me to wear one of those in public,” someone at the bar mumbled.
