a
hint as to his or her reasoning, we’d be able to put this behind
him before the weekend, ya think?
Nah, I didn’t really expect so either.
***
Wednesday nights were a little slower pace,
providing more time to mingle and talk to patrons. Interact with
both newcomer and old. Did I also mention it’s just me and Grady on
those nights?
Last week had shown that our camaraderie
contained flickering signs of life, but it was likely things would
never be quite the same between us. Eventually we’d settle into a
new routine – I hoped.
As I bent over to grab a couple of cold brews
from the refrigerated case, I felt rather than heard his approach
over the thrum of music. Thigh brushed my butt as I stood and
looked into warm chocolate depths. Without taking my gaze from his,
I popped off the bottle tops with a satisfying spit and hiss. The
edge of Grady’s mustache tilted as he took them from me.
“I’ll deliver those,” he said, the husky
voice rumbling through to touch me all the way to my toes.
Odd. Grady’s sexy voice used to touch me in a
whole different area. Somewhere north of my knees and south of my
waistline. Maybe my trip with Nick had satiated me too much.
“The couple at that table over there,” I
offered.
As the boss sauntered away to deliver the
libations, a familiar group walked up and sat down along the
bar.
I smiled. “Hey, it’s my favorite trio. Things
One, Two, and Three.”
Cornflower-blue eyes beneath flattened amber
hair widened. “What happened to Radioman?”
“Oh sorry, Things One and Two and Radioman ,” I said with a wink.
“That’s better,” Radioman responded with a
wide grin as I slid a bottle of Sam Adams onto the bar.
Satiated too much? Radioman’s smile forced me
to rethink that thought.
“Which Thing am I?” the dark-headed lawyer
asked. “One or Two?”
Their balding banker buddy just snorted
derisively and thumbed Radioman. “Why does he get a cool nickname
while we’re relegated to a stupid Dr. Seuss moniker?”
“Because,” I started with a bat of lashes,
“he comes to see me more often.”
“Yeah?” Banker Boy challenged. “Well unlike
him, we both have real jobs.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the
lawyer challenged, taking the scotch straight from my hands and
throwing it back like a shot, ice and all. “I get to spend my days
arguing with people.”
“And you like that shit?” Banker Boy
asked.
“You forget, I come from Italian roots. Other
people pay me to do what comes naturally.” He held up the empty
glass. “Can I get another one?”
“Italian, huh?” I asked intrigued, sliding
the double Jack and Coke toward the banker before pouring another
scotch for my lawyer pal.
“With a little Scots and Irish thrown in
somewhere along the line. But until you come up with a cooler name
than Thing One or Two, how about calling me Seth?”
“Nice to officially meet you Seth,” I said
grasping his outstretched hand, sending a tingle up my arm. Maybe I
wasn’t so satiated after all. “So how did you decide to become a
lawyer?”
“A lawyer is like a Marine – the few, the
proud.”
“More like the blowhard, the cocky,” Radioman
offered with a grin. “The one who likes to hear himself talk and
talk…”
“This coming from the guy who gets paid to
talk on the radio,” I interrupted with a thumb directed his way and
received a wink in return. Yeah, that earlier satiated thought was
officially debunked when my legs turned a tad noodley.
“Where do you get that lawyers are few?”
Banker Boy asked. “Colleges are spitting out so many lawyers every
year, I think the average in the United States is like one for
every seven hundred people…men, women, and children
included.”
“That’s a lot of attorneys,” I said, joining
them for a round with three fingers of Jack.
“That may be true,” Seth acknowledged with a
narrowing of eyes. “But ask yourself, how many of them are actually practicing
hint as to his or her reasoning, we’d be able to put this behind
him before the weekend, ya think?
Nah, I didn’t really expect so either.
***
Wednesday nights were a little slower pace,
providing more time to mingle and talk to patrons. Interact with
both newcomer and old. Did I also mention it’s just me and Grady on
those nights?
Last week had shown that our camaraderie
contained flickering signs of life, but it was likely things would
never be quite the same between us. Eventually we’d settle into a
new routine – I hoped.
As I bent over to grab a couple of cold brews
from the refrigerated case, I felt rather than heard his approach
over the thrum of music. Thigh brushed my butt as I stood and
looked into warm chocolate depths. Without taking my gaze from his,
I popped off the bottle tops with a satisfying spit and hiss. The
edge of Grady’s mustache tilted as he took them from me.
“I’ll deliver those,” he said, the husky
voice rumbling through to touch me all the way to my toes.
Odd. Grady’s sexy voice used to touch me in a
whole different area. Somewhere north of my knees and south of my
waistline. Maybe my trip with Nick had satiated me too much.
“The couple at that table over there,” I
offered.
As the boss sauntered away to deliver the
libations, a familiar group walked up and sat down along the
bar.
I smiled. “Hey, it’s my favorite trio. Things
One, Two, and Three.”
Cornflower-blue eyes beneath flattened amber
hair widened. “What happened to Radioman?”
“Oh sorry, Things One and Two and Radioman ,” I said with a wink.
“That’s better,” Radioman responded with a
wide grin as I slid a bottle of Sam Adams onto the bar.
Satiated too much? Radioman’s smile forced me
to rethink that thought.
“Which Thing am I?” the dark-headed lawyer
asked. “One or Two?”
Their balding banker buddy just snorted
derisively and thumbed Radioman. “Why does he get a cool nickname
while we’re relegated to a stupid Dr. Seuss moniker?”
“Because,” I started with a bat of lashes,
“he comes to see me more often.”
“Yeah?” Banker Boy challenged. “Well unlike
him, we both have real jobs.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the
lawyer challenged, taking the scotch straight from my hands and
throwing it back like a shot, ice and all. “I get to spend my days
arguing with people.”
“And you like that shit?” Banker Boy
asked.
“You forget, I come from Italian roots. Other
people pay me to do what comes naturally.” He held up the empty
glass. “Can I get another one?”
“Italian, huh?” I asked intrigued, sliding
the double Jack and Coke toward the banker before pouring another
scotch for my lawyer pal.
“With a little Scots and Irish thrown in
somewhere along the line. But until you come up with a cooler name
than Thing One or Two, how about calling me Seth?”
“Nice to officially meet you Seth,” I said
grasping his outstretched hand, sending a tingle up my arm. Maybe I
wasn’t so satiated after all. “So how did you decide to become a
lawyer?”
“A lawyer is like a Marine – the few, the
proud.”
“More like the blowhard, the cocky,” Radioman
offered with a grin. “The one who likes to hear himself talk and
talk…”
“This coming from the guy who gets paid to
talk on the radio,” I interrupted with a thumb directed his way and
received a wink in return. Yeah, that earlier satiated thought was
officially debunked when my legs turned a tad noodley.
“Where do you get that lawyers are few?”
Banker Boy asked. “Colleges are spitting out so many lawyers every
year, I think the average in the United States is like one for
every seven hundred people…men, women, and children
included.”
“That’s a lot of attorneys,” I said, joining
them for a round with three fingers of Jack.
“That may be true,” Seth acknowledged with a
narrowing of eyes. “But ask yourself, how many of them are actually practicing
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