Page 20 of Moonshine Kiss
Bowie in a goddamn suit came into my field of vision, and I nearly upended my wine glass. Bowie’s gray eyes widened in surprise when they met mine. And then they dipped, reflexively, to give me the once-over.
“Shit.”
His date blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
Bowie turned away from me and looked back at her. She was pretty, if you were into petite and brunette and curvy and perfect. She looked like she’d been a cheerleader in high school. I felt the flush explode on my cheeks like a brushfire.
“Nothing. Sorry.” He held out her chair for her and then took the one across from her. The one with a direct line of sight to me.
“What were you saying, sugar?” Baxter asked, still holding my hand.
Bowie was back to looking at us. His gaze held on our joined hands. Because I was a “shitty friend,” I didn’t stab Good Ol’ Baxter with my steak knife. Instead, I let him hold my hand for a moment longer.Take that, Mr. Bodine. Not everyone found me so repulsive.
Bowie’s date was looking at me now and—damn it! I’d gone and made eye contact.
“What’s going on?” the cheerleader asked. She was no dummy. She picked right up on the tension that crackled like a storm over our two little tables. You’d have to be dumber than a box of rocks not to notice that the air had suddenly taken a turn for the awkward. Baxter didn’t notice.
Bowie laughed nervously. “Uh, Erin, this is my neighbor Cassidy. Small world.” Neighbor?Neighbor?That’s what I was to him?
“Hi,” I said pulling my hand out of Baxter’s sweaty grip to shake Erin’s hand. “This is…”My soon-to-be stabbing victim? A man about to be missing his testicles? My biggest mistake this week?“Baxter.”
“Good to meet you, Baxter,” Bowie said, offering his hand to shake.
“Yeah, uh-huh,” Baxter gave a limp fish shake. “Now, if y’all will excuse me. I’m in the middle of charming the pants off this little lady.” He leaned forward and added in a stage whisper. “Maybe we should have that kiss now as an appetizer? I don’t mind if you use tongue.”
I stared at him, trying to telegraph the message:Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Help me show Bowie that I’m no little sister or shitty friend.
But Baxter was a dumbass and didn’t get the message.
I did the only thing I could do. I laughed with an edge of hysteria that had other diners looking in our direction. That’s it. I was done dating. I’d go get a cat. Two of them. I’d embrace the single lady life because I couldn’t possibly deal with this one second longer. I’d never have to share the TV remote. Leftovers would always be mine. And I’d just wear both halves of the pajamas. Single wasn’t bad. Single was better than Baxter.
The waiter returned with another glass of wine—thank the Lord—and took our appetizer order. Bowie and Pretty, Perfect Erin were stuck in the uncomfortable position of not having their own conversation because, by proximity, they were a part of mine and Baxter’s.
“What is it you said you did again, sugar?” Baxter asked picking up his gin and knocking it back like a shot.
“I’m a cop.” I hadn’t told him. That tidbit of information didn’t usually make it into my profile for a variety of reasons. Including but not limited to: dates trying to get me to fix speeding and parking tickets for them, questions about whether I’d ever shot anyone, or the bullshit of “girls can’t be cops.” I had a feeling I knew which way Baxter would lean.
“Woo wee! Girls can’t be cops,” he howled, slapping the table. Everything was funny to Bonehead Baxter.
I stared at him coolly. Bowie caught my eye and mouthed “What. The. Fuck?”
I didn’t need him on my side. I didn’t need him anywhere near my single cat lady life.
“Well, I do have a vagina, and I am a cop,” I assured him.
“Prove it.” He cackled lecherously, and I ground a layer of enamel off my teeth.
I could feel Erin’s discomfort radiating out of her totally cute blue sheath dress.
Bowie leaned over. “You better mind those opinions or she’ll tase your ass.”
“I mean, come on. You’re with me, man. Ain’t cha? Women aren’t as strong or as fast as men. Hell, I betIcan outshoot this pretty little thing.”
I threw my napkin on the empty plate in front of me. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find the restroom.”And punch a few holes in the drywall. And Google cat rescues.
Without another word, I stormed away from the table. Away from Baxter and Bowie and Bowie’s perfect date.
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