“You’re an amazing woman, Brown Eyes.”
“And you’re an amazing man, Eli,” I replied.
I don’t know why I shortened his name like that. It was as if my tongue tripped over the syllables, and it came out as those three letters.
His eyes twinkled down at me. “Nice nickname,” he teased.
I didn’t get a chance to respond because he leaned down and pressed his mouth to mine, ending the brief kiss with the light touch of his tongue to my top lip.
“I like the idea of you being the only one to call me that.”
As he opened the door, I stepped forward, keeping it from closing. “Good-bye, Elijah. Take care of yourself.”
I forced myself to use his full name, a reminder that I wouldn’t be the only one to call him Eli because I was only going to see him occasionally in the future. Last night and this morning were all just a brief moment, never to be revisited.
“I always do, Grier.”
Chapter Four
Monday was a complete clusterfuck.
No, a goatfuck.
Wait…which was worse? Clusterfuck or goatfuck? Or was FUBAR the worst?
It didn’t matter what I called it—the day had been insane. My boss was a pain in the ass at the best of times, but lately he’d been worse than usual. He would screw up documents and spreadsheets and expect me to fix it for him when I had my own work to do. His incompetence seemed to get progressively worse the longer I worked for him. Something I was sure he did intentionally to get out of doing any work at all. It was time to make a change. I just wasn’t sure which direction to go.
Thank God I was going out for happy hour cocktails with Davide tonight. I’d met him at Lucy’s first showing. He owned the gallery featuring her work, and we’d hit it off. As my friends left their single status behind, Davide and I spent more time together, commiserating over our work and our dating misadventures.
We tried to get together for drinks or dinner at least one Monday a month. Sometimes more. There were weeks that knowing I was meeting Davide was the only reason I made it through my Monday without giving up on life and moving into a cave to become a hermit.
The first thing I did when I walked into the restaurant was head to the bar. It was nearly six, and the tables were filling up, but the stools at the bar were mostly empty. Since this Latin American restaurant was within walking distance of my apartment, I fully intended to get tipsy. Maybe sloshed. But not hammered because I didn’t need to be hung over on a Tuesday.
I perched my ass on a barstool and hung my purse from the hook beneath the bar.
When Nick, the bartender, turned my way with a warm smile, he asked, “Do you want your usual?”
I wasn’t sure if it was brilliant or sad that the bartender saw me often enough to know what I preferred to drink. I nodded since my usual was a mojito. I really wanted to slam a shot of tequila first, but tequila reminded me of Eli…no, he was Elijah, and every time he crossed my mind since the wedding, my chest ached.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here? You all alone, sweet thing?”
I rolled my eyes at the deep voice and turned on my stool to face Davide. “Seriously? You couldn’t come up with a better line?”
He shrugged, his black shirt shiny and just tight enough to show off the bulge of his biceps and swells of his pecs. He was only an inch or two taller than me, but he spent an hour a day at the gym, and it showed. He was built like a Greek god.
“You look like the porno version of an art dealer or businessman,” I joked.
He stared at me for a moment, his expression stony, and then we both started laughing. Still smiling, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
“Just the look I was going for,” he joked as he sat next to me.
Nick arrived then with my mojito and smiled at Davide, “Hey! You want your usual, too?”
Davide shook his head. “I’ll have what she’s having, plus a shot of tequila.”
Surprised by the way his thoughts echoed mine, I turned my head toward him as Nick walked away to make his drink. “A shot of tequila? Did you have a bad day?”
“You have no idea,” he sighed.
