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“Those are some quick reflexes you’ve got.”
“I played baseball as a kid.”
“Really? I would’ve taken you for a football player.”
“Because of my size?”
I shrugged as the bartender slid me another glass of lemon water.
“I was a scrawny kid. I didn’t come into my own with my weight until I was well into college and started going to the gym.”
“Well, it looks good on you,” I murmured.
“What?” Everett asked.
“I asked if you enjoyed playing baseball.”
He grinned at me before he spoke. “I did. Some of my greatest memories as a child are on the ballfield.”
“Do you still play?” I asked.
“I haven't in years, no. As you get older, sports get more and more competitive. I enjoy healthy competition, but a lot of sports competition isn’t healthy. I got myself out of that scene before it became too much.”
“I didn’t play any sports growing up. I was never athletic like that.”
“You look strong.”
“I take self-defense classes in my spare time, but that’s about it.”
“Self-defense?”
“Yep. I’m a single woman living alone in Charleston. I need to know how to defend myself.”
“Has something happened to you?”
“I got accosted by some massive man sliding an invitation into my pocket once.”
“Oh, really? What happened?” he asked.
“I wanted to punch him in his dick, but I didn’t know how to reach it at the time.”
“Why? Too mesmerized by his eyes?”
“No. Too surprised at his forward insinuation to move. Self-defense has helped me to get over a lot of that shock value men use toward women to get what they want,” I said.
“If I made you uncomfortable with that encounter, I’m sorry.”
“It left a very bad taste in my mouth with you, Everett Wilder.”
“What does the taste in your mouth say now?” he asked.
I took a long pull from my water as my eyes danced between his.
“It doesn’t taste too bad now,” I said.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t pull that move on many women.”
“So I was the lucky one who’s space you invaded?”
