My eyes slid to her. “Real good.”
Her face spread in a smile and I returned it.
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered.
I was beginning to be happy for me too.
My drink came and I ordered a buffalo chicken salad with extra bleu cheese dressing. Marianne announced she was going on a diet and she ordered one too, without the bleu cheese dressing.
We ate at the bar, the plates were whisked away, I was on my third rum and diet and Marianne had gone to the bathroom when my hair was brushed to the side, a hand gliding across my bare shoulders. I looked around, then up, and saw Lee standing over me.
He’d showered and changed and he looked good. He was wearing jeans that were worn in but still newish, brown cowboy boots and forest-green collared shirt.
I smiled at him.
He frowned at me.
“Where’re the rest of your clothes?”
I looked down at my dress then back up at him.
“These are my clothes,” I said. “You don’t like it?”
“Yeah, I like it. If you’re wearin’ it in my kitchen while cookin’ steaks. I don’t like it when you’re wearin’ it sittin’ on a barstool and thirty guys are imaginin’ your legs wrapped around their backs.”
Jeez.
“Lee, you’re gonna have to get over this jealous-possessiveness thing.”
“Indy, you’re gonna have to get used to the fact that I’m the jealous-possessive type.”
Great.
I decided to change the subject. I wasn’t going to change how I dressed and he wasn’t going to start to like it. We were at a stalemate.
“Have you had dinner?”
“I grabbed something at the condo.”
His eyes moved to the bar and he lifted his chin and said to the bartender, “Fat Tire.”
Marianne still hadn’t materialized so I decided to broach a new subject.
“We need to talk about Eddie.”
Lee slid into the area between me and Marianne’s barstool, his hip pressing my knees to the side, he rested his forearm on the bar.
“Yeah, we do. From now on, you see Eddie only when I’m with you.”
My teeth clenched. “Okay, first we need to talk about you bossing me around all the time and how I really don’t like it.”
His eyes crinkled and I knew he thought I was being cute.
“I’m being serious.” I went on.
His beer came, he slid a note across the counter, took a pull and leaned into me. “This is how it works, I tell you how I feel, I’m honest about it, you do the same. A lot of the time we won’t agree but we’ll deal.”
I blinked at him.