“Shouldn’t you be asking us what we’d like to drink?” Ford challenges.
Tongue in cheek, Lexie glares at my baby brother. “You old enough to be drinking, Jeep?”
“He’ll have a beer,” Hawke answers for him. “Whatever you have on tap.”
Lexie looks at Hawke. “And you?”
“Can’t. I’m working.”
Holding Hawke’s stare, Lexie reaches for her uncle’s bourbon and downs what’s left, her expression barely changing as the burning liquid slips down her slender throat before her tongue darts out and she licks her bottom lip. “So am I.”
“That’s from a forty-five hundred dollar bottle of bourbon,” Gus announces.
Lexie gives her uncle a wink, then sets the glass on her empty tray. “I’ll bring you a fresh one. Anything for you, Jag Off?”
“Whatever your uncle’s having,” I reply.
“Coming right up.” With a smirk, she sashays away, her heels clicking with every step.
Hawke watches her hips sway back and forth as she disappears, though I can’t pinpoint where his mind is. But he’s always been that way. Learned it from our father.
“She’s hell on wheels, that one,” Gus mutters. “After her parents died, I stepped in to raise her, but it was too late. I blame her mother, Esmerelda. Too much sass for her own good, and I’ve yet to figure out how to tame her.”
Hawke’s attention shifts to Gus. “She’s not a problem.”
“She’s hell on wheels, is what she is,” he repeats, using the same term again. “Now, where were we?”
“We’re here to discuss your nephew,” Ford says.
Gus’s eyes thin. “I’ve already discussed my nephew with Roman.”
Ford shrugs. “Guess we have a few follow-up questions.”
“I don’t like questions.”
“Neither do we,” I return. “Which is why we’ll keep this brief.”
Hawke stares at someone behind me until a pair of perky tits practically spilling out of their lacy bra are two inches from the side of my face. “Jag Off,” Lexie purrs. I don’t bother turning toward her, well-aware this is a test. Whether it’s Gus’s orLexie’s, I’m not sure. The familiar clink reverberates through the table as she sets a glass of bourbon in front of me. It’s followed by Ford’s and Roman’s beers, then Gus’s beverage, and finally, she offers Hawke a shot glass.
“What’s that?” Ford asks.
“It’s a slippery nipple,” Lexie answers. The three liquids separate to look like a nipple through the clear container as she sets it down in front of Hawke. “I have a feeling you’d love to have a taste?—”
“Lex,” Gus warns.
Her lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t look away from Hawke. “Drink up, Robin,” Lexie tells him. “I made it just for you.”
“Probably poisoned it,” Ford interjects.
Gus’s mouth flickers with mirth, but he covers it quickly. “Enough games, Lex. Go.”
“Fine.” She juts out her bottom lip but reaches for the shot glass in front of Hawke when he takes it instead. His stare holds Lexie’s over the rim as he brings the shot glass to his mouth and downs the whole thing in one go. Uh, am I interrupting something? If that isn’t a bold move, I don’t know what is.
Hey, Hawke, her uncle’s right there, asshole. Maybe stop eye-fucking her in front of him. What do you say, pal?
“Hmm,” she humphs. “And on that note, it looks like it’s my turn on stage.” She hugs the empty tray to her chest and looks at Gus. “Anything else, Unc?”
“That’ll be all, Lexie.”
