“You got one of those for me?”
Chase slid me a glass, while Nathan poured. It was a damned big glass, and for that I was grateful.
“Here,” I said, dropping a small package onto the table. “I brought cheese.”
Burke inched forward, looking suddenly interested. I noticed he was drinking beer from the bottle, and not wine.
“I picked up a nice Brie, and a semi-hard Garrotxa.”
Nathan squinted. “A semi-hard what?”
“Nevermind,” I chuckled. “Just try it.”
We chowed down a little, and I came to realize I was hungrier than I thought. Probably something to do with not having much of an appetite over the last few days.
“This is good,” mouthed Burke. He was already on his third smear of Brie.
“Goes better with the wine,” I teased.
“Maybe,” he shot back, raising his bottle. “But everything goes just fine with beer.”
We talked shop first, about what they’d eaten this week and how much they liked it. Which things I should make for them again. Which dishes I should banish to the nether-realms of yuckiness, never to be tasted again.
I drank the first glass of wine fairly quickly, and went to pour myself a second. But Chase beat me to it.
“So…” I said, feeling abruptly warm and confident. “Tell me why I should accept your offer?”
Chase and Nathan glanced at each other. Burke let out a sharp laugh.
“Offer? We haven’t offered you anything.”
“Not yet,” I said. “But I already qualify. I’m exactly what you’re looking for, aren’t I?”
They stared at me some more, in semi-stunned silence. An opportunity presented itself. I decide to roll with it.
“Look, I’m fun, funny, awesome as hell. Totally the life of any party. Not to mention, breathtakingly beautiful.”
I spun around theatrically, causing my skirt to flare up a little. I grabbed the counter to stop myself and giggled.
“I’m sexy. Sensual. ZERO problems with my libido,” I winked. “And hell if I don’t enjoy being… what’d you guys call it? Pampered and spoiled?”
The two men nearest me were pretty much spellbound. Burke however, twisted the cap off another beer.
“Dammit, I like this girl,” he murmured.
“Best of all you already know me,” I went on. “I’m a kickass fucking girlfriend as well as a wicked cook.” I paused for a moment to sip my wine. “No cleaning, though. Maybe I’ll be your girlfriend, but not your maid.”
My rant was coming to a close. It had been fueled by nervousness, by impulse, and a little bit by the goddess of Merlot. It wasn’t the first time I’d gone off like this, though. It probably wouldn’t be the last.
“There,” I said finally. “The interview’s over. On your end, anyway. The only question remaining is are you three what I really want?”
I sipped again, watching their reactions over the rim of my glass. My pulse was racing, and not just from the wine.
“And I suppose,” I said, shifting my hips, “that would all depend on your terms…”
Eight
BURKE