“I went to the Dirty Beaver to not be bothered. I had no idea Peggy and Martin Chance were going to show up and try to set me up with their son.”
“Lucky you,” I say.
“Some might say that, but I’m still wavering on the verdict.”
“Any way I can float you toward the lucky side?”
“Don’t lay down the Debbie Downer card for the rest of the night, and then I very well might consider myself lucky.”
“Seeing that I most likely won’t be influenced by outside sources, I feel pretty good about my chances.”
“Hmm . . .” She glances over, and the warmth in her gaze is enough to make me forget the frigid night. “We shall see . . .”
Chapter Six
NORA
“Admit it, come on, let me hear it from your nacho cheese–filled mouth.”
Cooper dips his head in defeat and slowly nods. “Yup, best nachos I’ve ever had.”
You wouldn’t think an Irish pub would excel at making nachos, but here we are, hovering over a large serving plate, fingers covered in cheese, munching away. The Potato with Red Eyes is one of my absolute favorite places in the city. Not only is the ambiance perfect during the holiday season, with Celtic Christmas music playing in the background and putting you in the mood, but the booths are carved mahogany in deep rich tones that make you think you’re grabbing a pint in the Irish countryside.
“Told you,” I say, so incredibly giddy over the prospect of introducing someone to one of my favorite foods at one of my favorite bars. I don’t get out much, and when I do, it’s usually at random times, when my friends are home for the night or already have plans, so more often than not, I’m alone, trying new foods as I eat my way around Seattle. Sharing this experience with someone other than my Yelp rating actually excites me.
Cooper nods thoughtfully. “There’s something about the homemade salsa mixed into the cheese that’s actually making me salivate.”
“And the chicken has that charred taste to it.”
“The added lime salt.”
“And then with just the right amount of sour cream it’s positively orgasmic.”
“Haven’t experienced an orgasm in a bit, but I’d have to agree.” Cooper winces at that. “I mean, I have orgasms all the time.” Even though he’s wincing, he’s also smiling, clueing me in that his whiskeys have kicked in.
“All the time? Wow, that’s impressive.”
“Yup.” He pops a cheese-and-chicken-laden chip into his mouth and crunches down. “All the time, multiple a day.”
“Now, would these orgasms be brought on by others, or by yourself?” I cock an eyebrow, unable to resist the question.
He chuckles. “What do you think?”
I smirk. “I think self-love is a major component in your everyday life.”
He holds his hands out, as if to say, “What are you going to do?”
“If you’re not loving yourself, then how can you give love to others?” he asks.
“Very valid point. I happen to participate in self-love as well.”
Huh . . . why did I say that? Maybe the beers are getting to my head too.
“I wouldn’t doubt it. You seem as though you really enjoy loving yourself.”
I snort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs and puts another chip in his mouth. “Honestly, I have no clue. I think words are just falling out of my mouth at this point.”
“An honest occurrence after a few tumblers of whiskey and half a beer.”
We each ordered a local IPA when we arrived, but while Cooper nursed his, I’m on my second. Not quite sure why—maybe because I’m nervous. Nervous that I’m going to do something stupid, like . . . touch Cooper on the arm, like I did when I told him about the nachos. Or stare at him longer than I should, like I did while we waited for the nachos. Or feed him a damn chip, like when the nachos arrived. I mean, Cooper is my best friend’s ex-husband. I probably shouldn’t even be hanging out with him right now, which really hit me only when we arrived at this bar, but . . . the nachos were calling me, and now the more time I spend with him, the more I want this evening to continue. I want to get to know him more. I want to tease him some more. I want him to tease me . . .
But my conscience makes an appearance from time to time, reminding me who he is, which then brings on the nerves again. It’s a vicious cycle.
Maybe I do need another beer.
“I have a question,” Cooper says while picking at a black olive.