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“Wait. Your ‘father?’ Only rich people or people who hate their dads call them ‘father.’ Which one are you?”
Belle made a sour face. “That’s so not true. I’m sure plenty of people who love their parents call their dad father.”
“Well?” I asked. “Are your parents rich?”
She let out a breath. “Kind of.”
“And do you like them?”
“No.”
I laughed. “It’s not easy being so right about everything all the time.”
She grabbed the wine and took a long drink. “I’m going to need more of this if you’re planning to keep talking.”
“What does your dad do?”
Little by little, Belle’s frosty stance toward me thawed. I couldn’t say if it was the wine or the barrage of questions I threw her way, but I found myself laughing and enjoying myself. She even agreed to let me order pizza, which we ate off her coffee table while we watched a family friendly, dubbed version of Snakes on a Plane.
Belle kept offering me some of the wine, but I had a game tomorrow, and I never drank the night before a game. Okay, almost never. Besides, I didn’t need to be buzzed to laugh at the dubbers attempt to cover the movie’s twentieth F-bomb in the first few minutes with, “Enough is enough! I have had it with these monkey-fighting snakes on this Monday to Friday plane!”
When the movie wrapped up, I realized it was already evening. Belle was tipsy, as far as I could tell, but not drunk. I felt a little guilty pressing her while she wasn’t totally sober, but curiosity got the better of me.
She was sprawled out on the couch with a blanket over herself and her legs were on my thighs. Like a proper gentleman, I’d restrained from trying to make a move on her.
“You never did tell me,” I said. “Why were you so upset when you came in?”
“It’s a long story.”
“If my endless questions haven’t clued you in, I’m interested in your story. Long or short.”
She wore a strange expression for a moment, then smiled to herself. “Okay. Fine. But you’re only getting the condensed version. The guy from the disaster wedding in Texas showed up to basically profess his feelings for me. He and his wife are getting divorced already, and he tried to say we should give things between us a chance.”
My heart thudded against my ribs. The guy all her nasty reviews claimed she’d had a crush on forever? Probably. And shit. I didn’t usually want to murder strangers, but I found myself wanting to pack him in a bag and toss him in the ocean as soon as possible. “What’d you say?” I asked carefully.
“I told him I had feelings for someone else.”
Damn it. Now I needed to kill two people? “Who is the other guy?”
She leaned her head back, looking a little loopy. I realized she was probably more drunk than I’d realized, but I’d already opened the floodgates by asking.
“Well, he’s strange, silly, and gorgeous. I never know if he’s telling the truth or just trying to make me laugh. And he’s really good at picking locks. And making me feel good about myself. And making me laugh. I’ve also had his pickle on my mind all day.” She blinked heavily a few times, then her eyes didn’t open.
I thought she’d fallen asleep, but she sat back up. She looked at me in a way that left no doubt. She was talking about me.
Belle threaded her hands around my neck, half falling toward me on the couch. She tried to climb on me. “So what do you say, big boy. You gonna give me another ride, or do I need to beg?”
“Okaaay,” I said, lifting her by her waist and setting her beside me. “As much as this big boy would love to give you the ride of your life, you’ve got too much expensive wine swishing around in your system right now.”
She made a pouty face, then slapped me across the cheek.
I couldn’t help laughing in disbelief. “Uhh,” I said.
“C’mon, Hubby. Give it to me.”
I snorted, then stood up to stop her from reaching for me. “I really wish I was recording this right now. Sober you is never going to believe this.”
“I am sober.”
“Okay. Then let’s lay sober you down with a blanket for a minute and see if you still feel the same way in an hour. Sound like a deal?”
Belle let me lay her back on the couch and cover her with a blanket. She did make a claw and growl gesture at me before I could move to the loveseat a little farther away.
“One hour,” I said. “Then we’ll talk again.”
Belle suggestively licked her lips, then smiled as her eyes closed. It couldn’t have been ten more seconds before she was snoring. Loudly.
I pulled out my phone and saw I had a few missed calls and a text from Damon. His text had a picture attached of an article online. The header image was Belle in some coffee shop with a guy inches away from kissing her.
