My familiar teasing has her laughing, and she swats my arm comfortably. “I’ll take a beer. I’ve been drinking liquor already, and it’s never good for me to stick with liquor all night.”
Our knees brush together as I angle myself to her. “And why is that?”
“Well, I either get mean, or I get slutty.”
“Slutty?” I cock a brow at her and slap my hand on the bar. “Bartender! Let’s get this girl a shot!”
She laughs that deep, rich laugh, and I can already feel my growly demeanor disappearing. “Beer!” she corrects, pointing at what I have in my hand.
The bartender nods and pops the top off a beer and slides it down the bar to land perfectly in her hands. She takes a sip and smiles her thanks at me. “So what have you been up to since I saw you six hours ago?” she asks.
“Oh, I cured cancer and decided to go out and celebrate with my buddy, Sam. You?”
“Same.” She shrugs with a serious look that she’s having trouble maintaining. “Do you live downtown?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I live nearby, in Jamestown. I bought a fixer-upper there last year.”
She splays her hands out on the bar and drops her head with a groan. “Oh man, you’re one of those painfully handy guys, aren’t you?”
I chuckle at her question. “I don’t know about handy, but I can usually figure most stuff out. Or I google it after screwing it up and then figure it out.”
She props her stunning face in a hand. “I bet you clean your own gutters too, don’t you?” she says with a speculative look and takes another long pull of her beer.
“Yes, I do. But I usually end up cleaning them out in the rain because I only remember to do it when it’s pouring outside, and the water is spilling over the top of them.”
She nods and bites her lip like she’s really deep in thought. “So you’re all wet on a ladder and digging into your gutters to get the leaves out?” She uses her hands to gesticulate the action, then shakes her head.
“Yes.” I chuckle. “What the fuck are you doing? Why does your face look like that?”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m painting a pretty picture in my head.”
I roll my eyes. “Am I shirtless in this picture?”
She giggles knowingly. “Noo, you’re wearing one of those tank tops you wear under your coveralls.”
“You’re very observant,” I murmur around the mouth of my bottle. “Always plotting.” I shoot her a wink as I take a sip.
She shoots one back.
By the time we’re on our second round, neither of us is feeling any pain, both clearly having indulged prior to this moment.
Mercedes licks her lips and turns her body to face me straight on so her legs are pressed together between my sprawled out ones. “Miles,” she states with a twinkle in her eye.
“Mercedes.”
A peculiar look shoots over her face, but she brushes it away and sets her beer down. “Why have you never asked me to hang out again like you did that night we had pizza together?”
She must be tipsy to be coming in hot with questions like that. I eye her for a moment, noting that her eyes are a bit more hooded than before, but I’m not exactly sober either, so I’m not one to judge.
I shrug nonchalantly and hit her with honesty. “Tire Depot seems safer.”
“Safer,” she repeats, grabbing her bottle, but pausing before she takes another drink. “Meaning, I won’t run into you again and catch my flip-flop under your boot?”
“Something like that.” I chuckle, picking at the label on my beer with my thumbnail. “Which is probably for the best because, in those sexy shoes, I’m pretty sure you’d end up breaking an ankle or worse.”
Her posture straightens, and the corners of her mouth turn down in a pleased smirk. “You think my shoes are sexy?”
She lifts the black strappy sandal up between us, causing her skirt to ride up dangerously high. I see a whole lot of tanned thigh and a flash of black panties, and instantly, my dick pushes up against my zipper.
Mercedes notices what she’s just done and quickly drops her leg and turns toward the bar. Pursing her lips together, she demurely shimmies her skirt back down her thighs.
I lean in to whisper in her ear. “Really sexy.”
She clears her throat and turns to look at me. “So what are your real plans for tonight? Were you really just here with your buddy to hang? Or were you on the hunt?”
“On the hunt?” I question her phrase because it sounds funny coming from her.
“For tail!” she chirps, twirling in her seat to look at the bar that’s now filled to the brim. “For chicks. For a one-night stand that gets super awkward in the morning because she wants to make you pancakes and you want to chew your arm off and sneak out before she wakes up.”
I belly laugh at that very apt description. “Well, considering I was with my ex for the better part of my twenties, yeah, I guess I’m looking for casual.”
She nods intently, eyeing me down her nose. “I could tell that about you.”
“How?” I ask, disbelieving.
“You wear those T-shirts that show off your biceps.” She reaches out and snaps the material around my arm. “This can’t be comfortable. Why do you wear shirts like this?”
“This is how most shirts fit me.” I look down at her creamy legs. “And that little skirt you’re wearing is for comfort, I suppose?”
She shrugs innocently. “It’s stretchy.”
“Well, so are my shirts.”
We both laugh and take another drink.
“So what’s your type? What draws your eye? Gimme a hair color, something to work with.” She’s looking out at the people again like she’s seriously going to help me find someone to bang.
My gaze lingers on her hair, sliding down the smooth strands that fall softly over her chest. I clear my throat and reply, “Brunettes. My ex was a blonde. I’m over blondes. They do not have more fun.”
“Brunettes, it is. Let’s see.” She claps her hands and analyzes the crowd until her eyes land on someone. “Not my friend, Lynsey. She already dated our friend Dean, and it was so awkward for months after that.”
I eye her friends who are at a table with a few other people, and they don’t seem the least bit concerned that I’ve monopolized their friend for the evening. “Okay, friends are off-limits. That’s fair.”
“How about that one?” She points at a girl sipping on a cocktail in a corner booth. She’s trapped in by a couple of other girls who look like they are having a major bitchfest about someone.
“She’s swarmed by other chicks. I try to avoid the packs. They get awkward.”
“How so?”
“Well, there’s always one friend who tries to cock block. One friend who tries to steal the guy. And another who’ll make her friend feel bad about herself for being a slut.”
“Man, girls can be mean.”
“You’re telling me.” I take a pull of my bottle. “What about you? Why aren’t you on the hunt? You said you were over your ex, right?”
“Oh, I totally am. He’s vile.”