I get comfortable on a stool and grin when she makes her way down to me.
“Whiskey?” she asks with cool eyes, and no hint of a smile. I ordered a whiskey not long after she took over, before renovations started, and I could tell then that it irritated her.
“How about a shot of tequila tonight? If you’ll do one with me.”
Without missing a beat, she reaches for two shot glasses and pours the clear liquid—the good stuff—and hands me one, then clinks her glass to mine. “To one hell of a night.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
We shoot our drinks, and then she holds the bottle up. “Another?”
“Sure.”
She pours me more, but not herself. “You’re not joining me?”
“I’m driving,” she replies with a smile.
“Where do you live?” I ask.
“Not close enough to walk,” she replies and washes out her glass, then puts it away.
“You have beautiful eyes.” I lean my chin on my hand and watch her bustle about. I’m the only one at the bar now, and I admit I like having all of her attention.
She bats her eyes. “Thanks.”
“The rest of you isn’t so bad, either.”
“Back at you,” she says and laughs. “You’re ridiculously attractive.”
This gets my attention. Not that she didn’t already have my attention.
“You think I’m hot?”
“I said attractive,” she replies and rolls her eyes.
“Okay, what do you find attractive about me?” I take the shot she poured me and set the glass down, shaking my head when she offers me more.
“I seriously doubt you need me to feed your ego,” she says and chuckles.
It’s been entirely too long since anyone fed my ego because every time I consider taking someone home, a certain blond bar owner pops in my head.
It’s ridiculous.
“Humor me.”
She sighs and leans on the bar, then rakes her killer eyes up and down me. “You have nice hands. I like that you’re tall. And your teeth are straight.”
I stare at her for a long minute, then bust up laughing. “You like my hands, my height and my teeth.” I shake my head and then laugh some more. “My ego is safe, sweetheart.”
She’s smiling now, and that just about knocks me off my stool. Jesus, she should smile all of the time.
“You have a killer smile.” I scratch my nose and lean my chin on my hand again, watching her. “I want to bury my hands in your hair and feel how soft it is. And your legs have to be the sexiest I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re charming,” she says cautiously, but her cheeks are pink and her smile is back.
“I’m honest.”
“Can’t fault a man for being honest, given how rare it is these days.”
“I’m taking you to dinner, Callie.”
Her smile doesn’t slip as she cocks a brow again. She takes a long minute to reply, holding my gaze, and finally, as if she mentally thought why the hell not, she says, “You can pick me up at six on Monday.”
“I’m gonna need to know where you live to do that.”
“I’m staying with Adam for a while.”
I tilt my head and consider her. Adam is more of a player than I am.
“He’s my best friend.” She doesn’t look away or blink, doesn’t explain herself further, almost daring me to accuse her of sleeping with him, and I simply nod.
“I’ll pick you up at six on Monday.”
“Don’t be late.” And with that she saunters down to the other end of the bar to pour a beer for a customer.
I won’t be late.
***
What am I doing? I’m being an idiot, that’s what I’m doing. I’m waiting outside The Odyssey for Callie to finish closing up so I can escort her to her car.
What is this, 1945?
I sigh and lean against the building. No, it’s the French Quarter, and it’s dangerous at night, and I’ll be damned if Callie walks to her car alone this late.
A few moments later, the woman herself steps outside and sets the alarm, then locks the door and jumps about three feet into the air when she turns and finds me standing here.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”