Page 14 of Mourner for Hire
“Positive,” I answer, and she keeps glaring at me. “Look, Vada, the kiss was great, but I don’t sleep with women in the middle of a mental breakdown.”
She snorts, and her lips twitch to smile, but she doesn’t allow it. She crosses her arms and asks, “Then why are we naked?”
“Because you’re hot!” I practically shout, gesturing toward her and then gripping my hair as I correct myself. “I mean that literally. Sleeping with you is like sleeping with a furnace that was cranked on high on a warm August day. You are like the middle of a Hot Pocket right after you take it out of the microwave. It burns, and it’s very uncomfortable even if it tastes good, and I gotsweaty…” My voice trails, embarrassment licking up my neck into my cheeks. “Your face is fine, too.”
She narrows her eyes at the almost-compliment.
“You’re beautiful.” I stumble over the words, barely making eye contact. “I don’t want you to think I don’t find you attractive or anything, but I mean, you were drunk-drunk, Vada. And crying and emotional and?—”
“I got it. I got it.” She cuts me off before I can elaborate on her mojito antics. She groans. “This is why I don’t drink.”
“Clearly. I mean, you had four drinks, which is more than enough for most people, but they weren’t that strong. You went from zero to hero in two mojitos, a shot, and a beer.”
Her mouth twists like she wants to laugh.
“I kissed you, didn’t I?” she whispers, and I nod. “Sorry about that.”
“I kissed you back. I’m sorry. I was drinking, too.” I shrug.
I’ll admit I don’t normally drink when customers are present, but it was an off-day, and by the time everyone left, I felt like I was having drinks with an old friend. And if I’m honest with myself, I wanted to kiss her the moment she ran into the bar needing to pee. She came in like a tornado, dropping down from the sky and wreaking havoc on my idea of complacent singlehood. She had me opening the bar to everyone in town who doesn’t normally come in due to the location.
She was an inconvenience, in all honesty. But I didn’t mind it.
She nods, pressing her eyes closed as she slips her jacket over her shoulders. I want to tell her to open her eyes so I can memorize the color—a stunning mix of gray and green. I want to tilt her chin and make her look at me and tell her I still find her interesting and want to make her breakfast today and take her to dinner tonight.
I watch her eyes fall to my abdomen as it flexes when I reach for my glasses on the nightstand. The white sheet pulls away, barely revealing the top of my boxers, but she clearly feels the needto look away. Fortunately for me, it doesn’t last long as her gaze comes right back to me, like a ship to a lighthouse.
“You wear glasses?” she asks like it’s a problem.
“Just until I put in my contacts,” I answer, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I can feel her gaze on every inch of me. I can also see her restraint. Her inner turmoil—an argument with herself to not check me out. It’s amusing, really.
“I—I have to go. I have a meeting,” she says, raising her eyes to fully look at me.
Damn, her eyes. Olive skin and ashy brown hair with eyes that are moody yet playful.
Her jaw drops slightly as she soaks in the sight of me, and she swallows hard, pulling her jaw back in place and swallowing whatever thought just crossed her mind.
“Your dress is on backwards.”
“I’ll fix it later,” she says quickly, slapping a hand over her eyes. “Please put your pants on.”
“Relax,” I tell her. “I have sweats on.”
My effort to calm her nerves are no match for the level of frazzle she is reaching.
“Oh, I saw your jeans on the floor, and I assumed—” She shakes her head. “I’m so embarrassed. How do I not remember anything?”
“You drank a little too much and got emotional, which is partly my fault, considering I was the one serving you,” I answer.
“You promise we didn’t have sex?”
Sympathetic regret boils in my gut. There’s nothing like the riddled anxiety that pours through your veins after a night of drinking too much and doing something stupid. I feel her pain.
I smirk before I toss on a black T-shirt.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re putting on clothes because you are very attractive and I have mascara under my eyes and my clothes on backwards.”
I ignore her comment. “The last coherent thing you said tome was that I smelled good for having a dog’s name. And forgive me, but I do like to be wooed a little bit before giving it all away.”
