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“Especially from me?”
Olive finished her drink and slammed the glass on the bar with a loud smack. “From anyone, which also includes you. Yes.”
So it wasn’t me specifically, that she hated. Good to know. But I was curious about Xander’s words from earlier. “I heard I’ve been replaced as the person you hate most, want to talk about it?”
“No,” she growled and flagged down a passing waitress for another drink. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Or you don’t want to talk about it with me?”
Olive shook her head, thick black hair shining under the fluorescent bar lights. “No actually, I just don’t want to talk about it. Period.”
At least that was something. “You look good tonight. Different but good.”
Her green gaze narrowed in my direction. “And what, all the other days I look like warmed over death?”
My own brows dipped into a confused vee at her words. “Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re one of those women.”
Olive blinked, her own dark browns crinkled in anger. “What exactly does that mean?”
I sat back and flagged down a waitress to refresh my beer, minus the shot. “One of those women who’s got it all, attractive and accomplished, but can only see what’s wrong with her. Tell me that’s not you Olive, it would ruin my image of you.” She seemed far too capable, too self-assured to not know her worth.
After a long sip, she looked at me for a long time as if trying to figure me out before deciding I wasn’t worth it. “And what is your image of me? Squeaky clean goody two shoes?”
I smiled and shook my head.
“Liar. Tell me, I won’t break.”
I wasn’t so sure about that part, but I was smart enough to know when to keep my mouth shut. “Not squeaky clean, just…good clean fun.” She was the girl next door with Marilyn curves, tempting because she wasn’t trying to be. But at the end of the day, no matter what she wanted to hear, Olive was a good girl. A good woman.
“Good. Clean. Fun.” She said each word slowly, as if they were foreign words she had to test out on her tongue and each word came out angrier than the last. “Thanks for the company, Liam.” She pushed off the table with more force than was necessary, stumbling in the process and I was on my feet in an instant to help her.
“Someone’s had a little to much to drink,” I said and straightened my arms to catch her in case she fell.
My words pissed off the little spitfire and she yanked out of my grasp, glaring at me like I was the one who’d gotten her drunk. “Listen to me Liam Reyes and you listen good, I don’t need or want, you or anyone else to worry about me. I’m fine on my own. Just. Fine.” That’s what her mouth said, the simmering anger and the hurt, hell they just left me baffled.
I was just about to leave her in peace when she stumbled again but this time, instead of pissing her off with my words, I stayed silent. Mostly.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what,” I asked innocently, hand to my chest.
“Like you’re tryin’ really hard to keep your mouth shut.”
Her words yanked a big, rumbling laugh out of me and I shook my head. “So you want me to speak now?”
“No. I want you to get your hands off of me.” I let go instantly and she nearly fell under the strength of her wobbly legs. “Funny.”
“Thanks.” My hands went back to her waist to steady her and Olive froze. So did I. “Problem?”
“No. I wasn’t expecting your hands to be so…big.”
Yeah. “I’m not touching that one. At all.”
“Smart man,” she said with a laugh and slowly pulled herself from my grasp. “But thanks. I guess all that alcohol went straight to my legs.”
“I’ll get you home safely. I promise.”
“No thanks,” she said easily. “No offense, I mean, but I’ll just walk. I need to clear my head anyway.”
“No offense sweetheart, but I don’t think you’ll make it too far on those impractical shoes,” that were sexy as hell. “Or all the booze in those legs.” Those shapely legs that looked like they were at least a mile long in the sexy dress that skimmed her thighs.
“Impractical? These shoes are a work of art.” She kicked one leg out and moved her foot from left to right, making sure I saw the shoe from every angle. What I saw, was a shapely, slightly muscular leg from all angles.
Well, all but the good ones. “They’re sexy as hell, but they ain’t meant for walking.”
She let out a gasp of surprise and opened her mouth just as Xander strolled up, looking ready to call it a night. “I’m going home. Got an early morning,” he said gruffly, probably because he’d struck out with the redhead.
