The Care and Feeding of Unmarried Men by Christie Ridgway

moment, but she wanted something more than him getting his comeuppance. “What do you have in mind? And more importantly, what’s in it for me?”

Chapter Six
    â€œTrouble No More”
    The Allman Brothers Band
    Eat a Peach (1972)
    L ate that night, Nash pushed open one of the French doors leading to the Kona Kai’s small lounge, a beer on his mind. His gaze honed in on the babe at the bar, and he slowed his stride. Her back to him, Eve Caruso sat perched on a stool, her blonde hair streaming in soft waves over her shoulders.
    It was late, he was irritated after a day of shadowing his sister, and he definitely wasn’t ready for another round with the superbeauty. After this morning he’d again promised himself to keep his distance from her.
    But he still wanted that beer, so he decided to cross the bar area to reach the front desk through the second set of French doors on the other side of the room. He’d get the person manning the reception area to fetch a draft for him and then he’d escape back to his roomvia another route. It wasn’t a cowardly move—just cautious.
    And as her throaty chuckle wrapped itself around his dick and tugged, he congratulated himself on his quick Plan B.
    If only he hadn’t then slowed to see who’d made her laugh. If only she hadn’t then seemed to sense a presence behind her and swung around.
    If only she hadn’t been apparently tipsy enough to lose her balance and nearly land at his feet.
    Catching her around the waist, he re-righted her just as she let loose another husky chuckle. “Uh-oh. I almost fell for you.” She beamed up a smile at him. “Would you like a drink? I’m buying.” Her voice lowered to a stage whisper. “But only because I get a discount.”
    â€œI thought I was the one you were buying drinks for, Evie,” the man on her other side complained. He appeared to be two times more hammered than “Evie” and four times her age.
    She plucked a spear of olives from her martini glass and sucked on the third and last little greenie. The old dude watched her hollowing cheeks with a disgusting intent. Sighing, Nash pulled out the stool next to hers and took a seat. Old habits died hard, didn’t they? But the good news was, though she might need a chaperone, she was too drunk to be dangerous to him.
    He glanced at the young man who came to stand on the other side of the bar. “Beer,” he ordered. “Whatever you have on draft.”
    â€œAnd another martooni,” Eve put in. “My dad used to call them that. Martoonis.”
    The bartender grimaced. “Eve, are you sure—”
    â€œOf course I’m sure! Vodka martooni, very, very, very dry. With one, two, three olives.” As she held upthree fingers, she glanced over at Nash’s face, then stiffened. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.”
    â€œWhat?”
    Her valentine lips turned down in a stern frown. “No sermons tonight, Preacher. I’ve had a trying day, and tonight this party girl wants to party on without interference.”
    The bartender slid the beer and the martini in front of them. “She doesn’t drink much,” he told Nash. “I’ve been watering down the vodka and she’s still sloppy.”
    â€œI am not sloppy.” She straightened her spine and pushed her hair behind her ears. “You tell him, Nash. You tell him I’m not sloppy.”
    â€œYou’re not sloppy.”
    â€œAnd you’re not sincere.”
    Now that sounded more like the superbeauty he knew and was suspicious of, so he grinned. “Car work for you okay?”
    â€œPurrr-fectly.” She scooted her stool closer, propped her elbow on the bar, and peered up at him through sooty lashes. “Maybe I should put you on retainer. What’s a private mechanic go for these days? And what could I possibly provide as down payment?”
    The drunk on the other side of her