Eric is shaking his head but doesn’t say anything else. What does he know that I don’t? Pressing him for information later is now at the top of my to-do list.
“You want the usual, Paula?” He has the audacity to smile at me like he isn’t holding some sort of secret.
“Sure.” I turn back to Tristan. “Since we’re here, do you want to start going over all my family stuff and how wegot together?” I do air quotes with those last to words. “Unless, you have something else to do, of course.”
Why in the hell am I being so weird? Talking to guys has never been an issue for me. But the briefest interactions with Tristan bring out a side of me I didn’t realize I had.
“No, I’m good to hang around.” Relief passes over his face, and I wonder why he doesn’t want to leave yet. But…it’s not my business. He’ll tell me if he feels like it.
“Here you go.” Eric slides my margarita across the counter. “There’s a table over there they finished cleaning. I’ll let Delilah know y’all are heading that way.”
“Thanks.” I salute him with my glass before heading in the direction he pointed. Hopefully Tristan is following because if we don’t snag it, someone else will. The bar is crowded tonight, but not so much there’s a wait for tables. If there was, I’d feel terrible Eric told us to take this one.
I set my glass on the table and lift myself into the tall chair. Honestly, I think bars should do away with high tables with chairs. It’s practically asking for someone to fall off it in a drunken stupor. Or, even sober. I can’t count how many times I’ve lost my balance sliding down, and I’m not even that short.
Tristan takes the seat across from me. The glass of wine still in his hand.
“So, was it my family wine you were drinking?”
He glances at the glass as if he forgot he still had it. “Oh, yeah. I figured it was best if I at least tried it before going on this trip with you. I’m not typically a wine drinker, but this is good.”
At least he likes the product. “Which kind did you order?”
“I actually have no idea.” He laughs.
“What?” How do you not know what you’re ordering? That feels like a crime.
“I told Eric to pick for me, and this is what he gave me.”
I hold out my hand toward him. “Let me take a sip. I can tell you which one it is.”
He looks from the glass to me. “Um, okay.”
Oh no. I hope he’s not someone who doesn’t like germs. Not because it’s bad or anything, but because I basically just demanded his drink.
“It’s okay. I’ll ask Eric later.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” He places the glass in my hand, and waits for my assessment.
The scent alone clues me on which kind it is. But I take a small sip to make sure I’m right. I’m much like Tristan in that I don’t drink a lot of wine. Being surrounded by it my entire life kind of made me hate it on principle.
“No wonder you like this one. It’s our sangria. Super sweet but will knock you on your ass if you’re not careful.”
He grins at me, and butterflies swirl around my stomach.
“So, what you’re saying is I should probably stop after this glass.” He takes it back and takes a sip.
Well, at least I know he doesn’t have a problem drinking after me. Though we’re going to need to figure out the PDA aspect of our relationship. My parents are never going to believe we’re together if we never touch.
“Are there any questions you have about the trip?”
“In general, or specific?”
“Both?” I know we need to get the specifics squared away. The family will understand if he doesn’t know everything about them. They probably assume I never talk about them since I don’t want to be a part of the business.
“We probably need to figure out how we started dating.”
“Easy, we use the story of how we met when you knocked the phone out of my hand.” It’s not a complete lie. He did in fact go home with me that night. Even if the night didn’t go as I intended.
