Sure, Pal ('69 #1)
Page 16
“What did you say your name was, cutie?” Burke asked, leaning a hip against the bar between us.
Was he teasing me by calling me cutie? I was going to murder Evan. “Charlie.” I picked up another menu and wiped it down with the rag. I was crushing it with those one-word answers.
“Like Charlie Brown?”
I rolled my eyes and glanced up at Burke. He was smiling again. “Like Charlotte Brontë. My mom was really into Victorian Era everything. My older sister’s name is Beatrice. I’m not sure how Evan escaped with a normal name. He should probably be called Mr. Darcy or Mr. Knightley or something.”
Burke burst out laughing. It was a rich, deep sound, and I felt it in my chest. “We can call him Darcy. It’ll be our little secret.” He rubbed his beard. “He seems like more of a Mr. Bingley to me, though.”
Now it was my turn to burst out laughing. “That’s so freaking true. But you do not look like a Jane Austen fan. I am shocked, sir.”
“Not a fan, miss. I was subjected to hours of torture by my ex-wife.”
Ex-wife. Noted. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Which part are you sorry about?”
“The hours of torture, obviously.”
I was graced with Burke’s deep laugh again. “You’re funny, cutie.” He glanced around the bar. “I forgot to ask your brother where the drink mixers are. I didn’t see them when he was giving me the grand tour.” Burke turned and headed to the backroom door.
“Don’t,” I warned.
Burke dropped his hand and backed away from the door. “They’re fucking back there, aren’t they?”
Damn. Hearing his deep voice say, “fucking” sent sexually charged chills down my back. I cleared my throat. “I’d bet money on it.”
Burke laughed again and rubbed his beard. “What did I get myself into, Charlie?”
I grinned. “A huge mess, Burke.”
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