Page 139 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Every one of us women sees it.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, kid.” He still doesn’t look at her. “Ogres are known for their strength.”
According to Natalie, he’s spot on—strength and size.
Josie’s eyes land on his big, gruff hand solid on her small shoulder.
His eyes sharpen on the countertop, and a predatory grin appears. “Heard Celi is mixing up some killer drinks in here. Figured I’d—”
“Barge in and grope my naked body?”
He glances down, as if it’s the first time he notices Josie, even though his arm is snug around her waist and a hand on her small shoulder.
“Shit. Sorry about that, kid.”
Does he look disgusted?
“Call me kid one more fucking time.”
“I’m just here for the booze.” He holds up his free arm.
“Doesn’t give you a free pass to just barge in here like an—”
“Ogre?” He grins.
She clenches her jaw—speechless.
Is Josie speechless?
“Next time, I’ll knock, I promise.”
“Get off of me.”
“If you could just step aside.”
They both move at the same time, side-stepping in opposite directions. Her shoulder bumps his chest. His arm brushes her back. They end up blocking each other and twisting until he manages to get past her.
“Ogre,” she mutters.
He just grins. “Is that out of one of your storybooks?”
He has no idea.
“Fuck you.” She gives him the finger, but he’s already rubbing his hands together, and all his attention is on our cousin.
“Celi.” He licks his lips.
“Bronx.”
“What drink have you made for your favorite cowboy?”
“Hopefully one that’s poisoned.” Josie leans over the booth seat and fishes through a bag, finding sheer black pants that she pulls on. A crop shirt follows.
Bronx sips his drink. “Doesn’t taste poisonous. I’ll take three.”
Juggling his drinks, he turns toward the door. Josie’s fully dressed, although the material is sheer. She doesn’t move and forces him to do the same little awkward dance.
“See you in five.” He tips his head on the way out.
