Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3) by Lisa Lang Blakeney Page A

this promotion of yours."
    "Don't be a hater, Bitsy."
    "Who's hating? I have no interest in selling Viagra to horny old men like you do. I just want to get back into bed."
    "Remind me never to drink with you again. You are so damn cranky on the hangover day."
    "Whatever. So just tell me, who exactly are we waiting for?" I ask suspiciously.
    "No one in particular, inspector gadget. I just wanted to get out of the house."
    "Yeah right," I mumble.

    Sloan and I spend the next few minutes debriefing each other about the previous night's escapades. She tells me about a guy she met at the second bar we visited last night, and how they flirted with each other for a while then exchanged numbers. Now she's waiting to see how long it will take him to call her, and wonders if this one's going to blow her off too.  
    I, on the other hand evidently spent a lot of time at the last bar we stopped at talking to a bartender named Mark. A conversation that I have very little recollection of.  
    "How do you know his name was Mark?" I ask Sloan in an attempt to remember what ridiculous things I may have said last night.  
    My memory is spotty, but when I concentrate really carefully, I think that I can remember bits and pieces of a conversation between the two of us. I'm pretty sure Mark and I attempted to have some sort of philosophical debate about the liberal agenda in Hollywood, bad reality TV, and maybe something about a kitten he adopted; but I'm not one hundred percent sure. I lost chunks of our conversation to plenty of red wine by the time I woke up this morning. Similar to waking up from a dream that you can only remember snippets of.
    "How on earth can you not remember him? Every time you asked him a question you drawled out his name like you were Scarlet O'Hara holding court before the big ball."
    "If you actually watched the movie, you'd know that Scarlet O'Hara didn't ever drawl her words out. She was actually a fast talker."
    "Whatever." She quickly cuts me off. "You were like Marrrrk how long have you been a bartender? Marrrrk, is the house merlot good? Marrrrrk, can you ask the deejay to change the song?"
    Oh crap. Did I say all of that?
    "You're such a little flirt once you get some vino traveling through those Type A veins of yours, Babygirl. I think it helps to clear out all the Dark Knight cobwebs from your brain, and you start seeing the world for all that it truly has to offer and not just what's inside your little love bubble."
    "Oh please. There's no flirting involved. I just become a Chatty Cathy when I drink. I like to talk to people. I'm not always on the prowl like some people I know."
    "Then why do you end up chatting up only hot looking bartenders everywhere you go? Why didn't you talk to the humongous guy who was sitting right next to you, and staring you down the whole time we were there?"
    "Was he hot?"
    "The big guy?"
    "No, ding-dong, the bartender."
    "Absofuckinglutely, but how convenient of you to not recall that part of the evening. So I guess when your boyfriend asks you what you did last night, you won't bother to make mention of Marrrrrk will you, because you don't remember. How very convenient."
    I roll my eyes upward in exasperation.
    "Everyone has their weird thing, Sloan. I think flirting with bartenders may be mine."
    "Either that or you've figured out the smartest way to drink for free all night."
    We both start cracking up, but then I shut my mouth instantly once I hear it.  
    "Grab that chair over there."
    My ears must be playing tricks on me.
    "Why do you have that look on your face all of a sudden?" Sloan inquires.
    I'm staring blankly inside my coffee cup.  
    I can't speak.  
    I can barely breathe.
    I'm waiting to hear it again. To make sure.  
    That voice.  
    I don't want to do it, but I have to. I turn my head and scan the room looking for it. I need to be sure, before I lose it right in the middle of Java.
    Sloan shifts nervously in her seat.
    "You're freaking me out, Bitsy," she