Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
I kept shaking so the chill level would be just right before I slipped off the cap and poured. I topped up with ginger beer and was going for the apple slices for garnish when Martha batted my hand away, snatched up the glass, and I, along with Eric, watched her put it to her lips, tip her head back and down it in one.
She slammed the glass to the counter when she was done, smacked her lips and gusted, “Ah.”
She then looked at Eric and blinked.
Oh boy.
I opened my mouth again, but Martha was quick on the draw. “Who’re you?”
“Martha, this is Eric. He works with Cap,” I introduced.
“Of course you do,” she stated, not taking her attention from Eric. “I’ve seen those other boys. Jesus. Are you all recruited from modeling agencies, or what?”
I busted out laughing.
Eric’s lips were twitching as he replied, “Not exactly.”
“So?” Martha pushed for more info.
“I was in the FBI,” Eric shared.
I stopped laughing and stared.
Martha’s eyes bugged out. “The Federal Bureau of Investigation?”
“Yup. That FBI,” Eric confirmed.
“I’m in no mood to be impressed,” Martha declared. “So congratulations, because I’m impressed.”
Eric shrugged.
Martha looked at me and squinted. “Are you two a thing?”
I studiously kept my gaze on Martha when I replied, “Just friends.”
Martha was still squinting. “Just friends sharing a Thanksgiving à deux?”
“Just friends sharing Thanksgiving,” I asserted.
She continued squinting.
I fought squirming.
Her squint swung to Eric.
I braced and looked at Eric.
He was taking a sip of his cocktail.
I stopped looking at his face and started obsessing on how his strong throat convulsed during a swallow.
Yum.
“Welp!” Martha cried. “I’ve gotta head back. Face the music. Explain to my daughters-in-law, once again, that they will one day enter the joyful period of their lives where they’ll no longer need the likes on their Instagram posts to validate their existence, and they’ll learn life’s way too damned short to put up with a horse’s ass. They’ll disagree with me. Then they’ll go home. Still in tizzies. Which means they’ll forget to take leftovers. Which works for me. Have fun.”
And with that, not waiting for either of us to say anything, she marched right back out.
I held the shaker to Eric. “Ready for another one?”
“Yup,” he answered.
I refreshed our cocktails then rounded the bar to resume my seat beside him.
“Is she going to be the last one?” he asked.
“I doubt it,” I replied with honesty.
I mean, this was the Oasis.
“This seems weirdly familiar,” he muttered.
“At least it’s entertaining,” I remarked.
He shot me a half-smile. “It is that.”
“I’ve neglected to tell you, this is really good.” I pointed at my plate.
“I aim to please,” he joked.
Even joking, I bet he did.
I shivered.
To fight off that train of thought, I nabbed my highball glass and lifted it his way.
“I also neglected the toast,” I declared.
He put his fork down and grabbed his glass.
“Happy No-Fucks-to-Giving,” I toasted.
This time, it was Eric who busted out laughing.
I stilled.
I’d never heard him laugh, or saw it, and it…was…magnificent.
He was still doing it when he clinked glasses with me and replied, “Happy No-Fucks-to-Giving.”
I forced a smile.
We drank.
Then we went back to our plates.
And fortunately…
Silence.
THREE
DARK
I put my spent bowl of apple crumble and ice cream on the coffee table just as the credits rolled on Planes, Trains and Automobiles.
Eric, who was indisputably all man, had done what any man would do when we sat down to watch the movie. He’d seized the remote, and as such, right then, he hit pause on the credits.
I tipped my head so I could look at him where his long body was lounged down the longer end of my couch. I was on the shorter end, propped up in the corner, his stocking feet mere inches from me being able to give him a foot massage (which I was not doing, but the urge was there).
I’d always loved my couch.
Seeing Eric stretched out on it, I adored it.
“How far will I fall in your estimation if I unbutton my jeans?” I asked.
His lips were curved up. “Not at all. That’s the best compliment to the chef you can get.”
I snaked a hand under my tee and unbuttoned. I also needed to unzip, or better, go and put on some lounge pants, but the button would have to suffice for now.
“Better,” I mumbled.
Eric chuckled before he asked, “I picked the first movie, you get the next.”
The next.
I really didn’t want to be so happy he wasn’t leaving now that dinner, dessert and movie were done, the sun had set, and the day was winding down.
But I was happy.
“I feel like watching Jack sink to the bottom of the Atlantic,” I stated.
His lip curve stayed in place, but the feel of him shifted to that strange sensation I sensed last night when he murmured, “Dark.”
I shrugged. “That’s me.”
He said nothing, but I felt approval emanating from him.