answer you, my hair is all natural. What about yours?”
“Oh, totally natural too.” I grin at her, and she laughs.
“I like you,” she tells me. “You’re funny.”
“I know.”
She chuckles again, shaking her head. “So, what’s your name? You know mine; it’s only fair that I know yours.”
“West,” I tell her.
“Like north, east, and south?” She grins.
“Exactly like that,” I echo her prior words. “My parents were big fans of the cardinal directions.”
She laughs again, and I really fucking like the sound.
“So, you have siblings called North, East, and South?”
“No. Thank fuck. Only child.” I’m relieved that I didn’t have a sibling who had to deal with Dad’s constant absence or his crappy treatment of Mom or watching her die way too young.
“Only child here too,” Dillon tells me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “And you never did tell me the second thing.”
“Oh yeah.”
“So …” She gestures for me to go on.
“Why Eeyore? There’s a fuck of a lot of better names out there. Like the one you currently have.”
“Because I’m a sad donkey.”
I give her a blank stare.
“You know, Eeyore, the sad donkey.”
“Not a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Please tell me you’ve heard of Winnie the Pooh.”
“Sure I have.”
“Eeyore was his buddy. The purple donkey that’s always sad and depressed.”
I shrug because I don’t remember a purple donkey.
“I can’t believe you don’t know who Eeyore is!” She shakes her head. “So disappointed, and here I was, thinking you were cool.”
“I am. Hence why I have zero clue what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Eeyore is a sad donkey. I’m sad. Ergo the name change.”
“You’re really gonna regret this conversation when you wake up sober tomorrow.”
“Shut up,” she says, but she’s laughing.
“And you don’t seem sad to me.”
She pauses and looks at me. “No, I don’t, do I?”
There’s a brief moment where we lock eyes again. I feel my skin start to prickle with desire, and my dick is definitely paying close attention.
Not tonight. She’s drunk.
“You don’t look like a donkey either,” I add with a grin to take my mind off all the sex I want to have with her.
Laughter bursts from her, breaking our eye contact. “Thank God for that! Be a bit shit if I did look like a donkey. Not that they’re not cute. But I definitely wouldn’t make a cute donkey.”
I’m grinning at her, and she says, “What?” around the straw she’s got in her mouth.
“Nothing. You’re just cute, is all. But not donkey cute.”
“Thanks, I think.” She chuckles.
I watch her as she finishes the rest of her drink, draining the glass. I’ve got to give her props; she sure can drink her liquor. Although she is kind of cheating, as it’s a cocktail.
“So, do you only drink cocktails, or can you handle the hard stuff?” I ask her.
“Asks the man who’s drinking beer.”
“Touché.”
“So, are you only a beer drinker? Or do you fancy joining me in a shot?” There’s a wicked gleam in her eyes. A challenge.
And I know I said I wasn’t drinking anything else after this beer, but I also know that one shot won’t kill me, and I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.
“What’s your poison?”
A gorgeous smile slides on her lips, and fuck, do I want to kiss her. But I won’t.
Not tonight anyway.
Tomorrow though, all bets are off.
“You choose.”
I turn to the bartender. “Two shots of Fireball, please.”
“Make it four shots,” she says.
Okay, two shots won’t kill me. I won’t get drunk. Well, not before her anyway. She’s already halfway to wasted, and I’m a big guy. She’s fucking tiny. Couple of shots, and she’ll be done.
three
West
I was wrong. Four shots and another Long Island iced tea later, and she doesn’t appear to want to stop drinking even though she’s at the point of drunk where terrible decisions usually ensue.
I’m definitely feeling the buzz of the liquor. Fortunately, it’s not enough that I can’t see her back to her villa safely. Because there is no way she’s getting back there alone without getting into trouble along the way.
Honestly, I think she’d have a hard time finding her way out of the bar at this point.
But I have to say, I am impressed at her ability to hold alcohol. For such a small person, she sure can put it away. And I only know what she drank in the bar. I have no clue what she drank before she got here.
“Another drink, barman,” she slurs, lifting her hand up. Her other hand is supporting her head, elbow somehow