Think Before You Speak Read Free Page B

pants. Or up my skirt. Didn’t work then and
it sure wasn’t gonna work this time.
    I think.
    “Let me get your key,” I said, digging
through my purse before extracting and holding it out to my former
landlord. Er, the Good Samaritan.
    Friend was a word I still hesitated to
use where Zeke was concerned. Reminded me a little too much of the boy friend variety. He held his hand open so I could drop the
key into his palm, almost as if he was as much afraid of touching
me as I of him.
    The musky scent of the great outdoors
overtook new construction and touched me all the way down there. My
thighs clenched.
    Having Zeke in my apartment, having him
standing so close I could feel the warmth radiating off of him – it
all served to be a little much for my present euphoria. My heart
pounded as dark eyes trailed from my hand to my lips, and breath
stilled when his gaze met mine. My nether regions jumpstarted awake
after weeks of forced hibernation. That promise I’d made to go to
bed alone tonight swept away like the deck chairs off the Titanic.
I suddenly wanted Zeke to take me in his arms and do unspeakable
things to me – all night long, y’all.
    Instead he slipped the key in his pocket,
planted a kiss on my forehead, then turned and walked right out my
door in two strides. After staring at the closed door for a few, I
looked down at Slinky with a sigh.
    “Looks like it’s just you and me again,
pardner.”
    Slinky just looked at me before spitting out
the toy from his mouth and settling again in the window seat to
lick himself. My eye roll of disgust landed on the top of the new
stainless fridge. The empty top of the new stainless fridge.
Too bad Mom was a teetotaler and hadn’t replenished my liquor
stash. I could really use a shot of Jack about now. Or three
fingers of scotch. A Long Island iced tea anyone?
    I knew the best place in town to get a drink
or two – and it probably wouldn’t cost me a thing.
    Can you say Grady’s? I sure can. Could. Oh
hell, just get in the car.

Chapter Three

    The bar was a slow go so early in the
evening, kinda like my usual Wednesday nights – unless it was wet
t-shirt night. When I work the bar, I have a tendency to bring a
little chaos to the atmosphere. My co-worker Rochelle is a
different matter. She’s a classy cowgirl.
    Wavy brown hair framed a cherubic face with
deep-set green and knowing eyes. My co-worker had seen a lot in her
thirty-some years. Had the little boys and the single parent
moniker to prove it. She didn’t talk about how her ex ran off and
left her with nothing, and we all knew better than to ask. As a
frequent sufferer of foot-in-mouth disease, I’d made that mistake
only once.
    Schedules at work had gone a little screwy
since our former co-worker got caught in a drug ring and murder
moment. When he’d tried to launch me off my rooftop for a brief
flight sans wings, my boss sent Bud down under for an eternity of
keeping the likes of Joseph Stalin and Adolf Hitler company.
    This employee shortage was a boon for
Rochelle by opening up another bartender position. Higher wages,
better tips, and more hours than the server position, allowed
Rochelle the opportunity to start saving up so she could eventually
move out of her mother’s place. I’d worked with her over the last
few weeks, guiding and grilling her on mixing drinks, reading
people, and the best ways to entertain customers to earn more tips.
She was a natural in the making drinks category. Mimicking my
daring form of entertainment? Maybe that’s a category best left to
my area of expertise.
    Rochelle’s full lips perked up in a smile
when I sidled up to a barstool. “Hey, Vicki. What’re you doin’ here
on your night off?”
    “I just moved back into my apartment,” I
said.
    “Congratulations.” Rochelle beamed. “Guess
that’s cause for celebration.”
    “More or less.”
    “So why aren’t you there relaxing instead of
hanging out in this place?” she asked, filling a couple of