“God, no.” She gives a mock shudder and smiles. “My sister is great at it, so I’ve gone out with her a few times. I love watching.”
I file that information away in the back of my head, wondering which of her sisters is the singer. “Why don’t you grab a seat over there?” I point to a booth to the left of the karaoke setup. “I’ll grab us some beers and meet you in a second.”
“Okay.” She sashays away, and I watch her go. She’s right—the damn skirt ruffle does ripple. And even though it comes down past her knees, it’s somehow infinitely hotter than the black leather miniskirt I pictured in my head.
Go figure.
I glance around and realize I’m not the only one in the bar who’s checking her out. Several guys glance up from their beers to watch her hips sway, and I want to grab every last one of them by the shirt and order them to look away.
Mine, I telegraph to all of them.
That’s true for now, anyway.
I sigh and step up to the bar to order a couple of Budweisers and a plate of wings. Then I grab the beers and make my way across the room to where Lisa sits with her legs crossed primly and her hands folded on the table. She’s glancing around, studying the scene, and I wonder what it looks like through her eyes. Is she disgusted? Intrigued? A little of both?
I set a beer on the table in front of her and take a seat on the opposite side of the booth. Lisa smiles, then stands up and moves over to sit on the bench seat beside me.
“What’s up?” I ask, though I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I love feeling her thigh snugged up against mine and her hair brushing my arm.
“The Test,” she says. “I’ve always sat across from my dates in booths. Never beside. Figured I’d try it like this for a change.”
“Works for me.”
That’s the understatement of the year. I gulp my beer, trying to keep my mind off the fact that the side of her breast just grazed my arm. I wonder if she’s doing it on purpose and decide not. That isn’t who Lisa is.
Then again, maybe she’s as eager to have me touching her as I am. I take another swig of beer, skimming my bicep across her breast on the way up.
Lisa shivers and gives a soft little sigh.
Damn.
“So, Dax,” she says. “Tell me about yourself.”
I’m instantly on guard. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, you’ve met my sisters and my sister-in-law,” she says. “You know all about my split from my ex and my dog-free childhood, while I know almost nothing about you.”
It’s true, and it’s by design. But that’s not going to cut it with Lisa. I can tell from the look she’s giving me, like this is a job interview and she just asked me to describe my career history in detail.
I take a deep breath and spin my pint glass on the table. “I have a brother in prison and a sister who passed away.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I glance up to see sympathy fooding her eyes.
She moves her hand to rest it on my arm. “I’m so sorry.”
She doesn’t ask what happened, and I don’t mean to tell her.
But something about the warmth of her fingers on my forearm has me spilling out the details. “My sister, Dana, died of a heroin overdose at nineteen,” I say. “And my brother is doing six years for second-degree armed robbery.”
I’m not sure if I say this for shock value or for sympathy, but that’s not what she gives me. There’s compassion in her eyes, sure, but no trace of pity. No trace of scorn or shame. “God, Dax. I’m so sorry. Your poor parents.”
I stare at my beer, considering how much to tell her. “Our dad died three years ago, and our mom left when we were little, so it’s really just my brother and me. Paul—that’s my brother—he’s at the State Pen in Salem.”
“Do you see him much?”
I nod and take a sip of beer. “Yeah. Once a week I drive over there for visiting hours. He’s three years in, and there’s a chance he’ll get an early parole next spring. Good behavior and all.”
