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“All the best secrets have them.”
“Have or know many?”
“None as important as what you’re about to tell me,” I respond, delighting in her giggle.
“I’m not sure if that’s cocky on my behalf or yours.”
“Can’t it be both?”
“For the sake of this argument, sure.”
“I like how you think.”
She nods, taking the compliment, and says, “It has to be mutual.”
“Secret quid pro quo?”
“Like labels, do you?”
“Just verifying the rules.”
“Uh oh. You’re that type.”
“Is that a deal breaker?”
“Nah. I am, too.” Good to know. “Ladies first.”
“And a gentleman, which means you won’t renege.”
I tip my head in agreement. “You have to start so I know what level we’re on.”
“There are levels?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to admit to something nefarious if you’re just going to share your favorite color.”
“Well, now I might need to rethink mine. If I want to know your nefarious, I have to give up one in exchange.”
Willing to compromise, to do anything as long as she’ll keep talking to me, I offer, “What if we say them at the same time?”
She thinks for a second, then nods. “Equal footing. Deal.”
“On the count of three. One. Two. Thr…”
“Wait, do we say it on three or after?”
“After.”
“Okay. Carry on.” I grin, finding her adorable.
“One. Two. T…wo and a half. T…wo and three quarters.” I wink at her. “Three.”
“My friends think I should have sex while I’m here.”
“My mom wants grandkids.” We stare at each other, then burst out laughing. “You don’t know her, do you?” He’s not seriously suspicious, his tone is teasing.
“I don’t even know you,” I remind him. “I’m Isabel. Izzy.”
“Nice to meet you, Isabel. I’m Parker.” My palm touches hers and we shake, but neither of us let go. Instead, I place them on top of her knee with the back of my hand resting on her skin. The high temperature of the area has nothing on the heat coming from where we’re touching. “Not to sound forward,” she starts giggling and I wait, wondering what’s so funny.
“Says the man that just insinuated he’s here to spawn the next generation.” Seeing the humor, I chuckle, but I start picturing a mini-replica of Isabel and happiness infuses me. How can I already love a child that does not, and might never, exist? Her smile morphs into one of satisfaction, as if she’s visualizing the same thing – or perhaps a smaller version of me.
“Did we scare them away?” She teases as we glance around and notice the bar has emptied, leaving us alone save the bartender and a couple stragglers. How long have we been in here? It seems like mere minutes have passed, yet a peek at the clock above the shelves of liquor show that it’s only been an hour. An early one, at that. I’m too keyed up to sleep, and my usual bedtime isn’t for quite a while, so I’m thankful when Isabel inquires, “Want to get out of here?”
Hot damn.
