I nodded. “Yes, really.”
“Dirty martini,” Larissa said placing the drink I ordered in front of me. It had the ice slivers in it that I loved.
“Thank you. This looks wonderful.”
“She’s the best,” Eli agreed. “Now how about another Jack?” he asked her.
“How about a glass of water first,” she said sliding a glass of water in front of him.
“You’re killing my buzz, Larissa,” he said looking unhappily at his glass of water.
“I’m saving your ass,” she told him. Then she turned and said to me over the music that was growing louder, “Eli’s a nice guy. Better when he’s sober. And your food will be out in five,” she said holding up her hand with her five fingers spread.
I figured he had the approval of the bartender who seemed nice enough. I wasn’t going to be abducted or raped tonight. That was a relief.
Eli Hardy
TOO MUCH ALCOHOL was never a good thing. Unless you were home alone with pizza, or even better, Chinese food and the box set of Rocky DVDs. Then you were safe. But I’d been sworn off women for three weeks. The last women I had dated had made a wedding planner by the sixth date and proceeded to show it to me. That had been our last date.
I missed women. I’ll admit it. The one sitting next to me was gorgeous, and she reminded me of that etiquette book my grandmother made Larissa read when we were kids. Grandma tried to make me read that book, but I wasn’t doing it. I pretended. The picture of the girl on the front of the book was so polished and polite—that look hadn’t been attractive until now. Wrapped up in this package beside me, it was a complete turn on.
Watching her attempt to eat a potato skin with a fork and knife was priceless. Larissa’s face when she asked for “flatware” had been even better. We had grown up around my grandmother, so we were used to proper people. But in a place like Live Bay, you didn’t run into this sort of girl.
I was positive Larissa was as entertained as me. Probably not as fascinated, but fucking entertained. Larissa was giving me the “be good” glare every time she came over to get our drinks.
She was my aunt, but she was only a couple of years older than me. We’d grown up more like cousins. She had lived with us for a time, but I was too young to remember.
It had taken some acting to pretend I wasn’t as drunk as I actually was to get her to give me another whiskey.
Finally, I reached over and picked up one of the potato skins and held it to her little pink perfect mouth. She frowned immediately. “Eat it with your hands. Try it. The grease gets on your fingers, but somehow that makes it all better.”
I wasn’t a junk food guy. I was a runner and very careful about the food I ate until I got drunk. Then I ate all the bad shit. However, Lila was keeping me from eating the greasy bar food. I was too enthralled with her to care about anything else.
She took a dainty bite, and then cover her mouth as she chewed, grinning as if she had done something completely wicked. Damn, that was hot. There was no way she was as perfect as I saw her. She had to have something wrong with her. I just couldn’t see clearly through the drunken haze. I needed to tread carefully.
I tried to focus harder to see if her teeth were bucked or if there was a gap big enough for food to fit through. Maybe she had bad breath? Or was married? I began checking those for evidence of those intently.
“What are you doing?” she asked.