Actually it made no sense, but I’d go with it.
She laughed, high and sweet. “You’re asking me out? You?”
I couldn’t help being a little offended. “What does that mean?”
“We do not go together.” She shook her head. “You’re like… Captain America or Mr. Bingley…”
“I prefer the former.”
“Good, because I’m no Jane Bennett.”
“Could you be Peggy Carter?”
Again her brow creased. “Who’s that?”
“Captain America’s…” Shit. I wasn’t about to say girlfriend. I wasn’t even sure why I’d asked her out. Fucking curiosity, I guessed. “Nevermind. Let’s get a drink.”
“You shouldn’t drink alcohol for twenty-four hours. You could bleed.”
“Tomorrow then. It’s Friday. I’ll pick you up after work.”
The dimple was joined by the pink cheeks, and she looked down. “You can buy me a drink tomorrow after work, but you need to know I’m leaving.”
“After one drink?” My thumb was at her forearm, and I lightly slid it along her skin. “Maybe you’ll enjoy my company more than you think.”
Strangely, my touch didn’t seem to bother her as much as the eye contact. “No, Princeton. I’m leaving town, moving back to Bayville next week.”
“Okay.” That could actually work in my favor, depending on what happened. “We’ll make it your last night on the town.”
She seemed confused, but she agreed. “Whatever you say.” Putting the gun down, she leaned back and stretched. Her skinny torso lengthened, and I couldn’t help thinking of a cat. “All done.”
Holding my arm up, I twisted it around. “I like it. Thanks.” We walked back to the front, and I handed her my card to pay. “So I’ll pick you up here tomorrow night at… what?”
“I should be finished here by seven-thirty.” She handed my card back with a receipt and the standard after-tat directions and care kit. The look in her eyes was interested but still cautious, which was fine. The feeling was mutual.
I signed the pap
ers and gave her a wink. “See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 3 – Dangerously Sweet
Kenny was a different person on Friday. Well, she was dressed similarly to the day before in a filmy blue top over a black tank with skinny jeans, but the resistance seemed gone. She teetered out on blue-suede stilettos that let her toenails (also painted black) peep out, and she greeted me with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, sending that sugary perfume all around me. She was like a licorice pixie stick in heels.
“Nice shoes,” I said.
She narrowed one eye as she continued past me. “I’ll see if they come in your size.”
Her smart remark caught me by surprise, but I liked it. Feisty was always a win in my book. It usually translated to hot sex, which was potentially somewhere on the table for tonight.
“I’ll take it that’s your way of saying Thank you.” I helped her into my waiting Charger before going to the driver’s side. “You’re too skinny. I’m buying you a pizza before the night’s over.”
She shook her head. “Lactose intolerant.”
“Then we’ll hold the cheese.”
We were headed to O’Harry’s pub, a microbrewery a few blocks away. I figured it was neutral enough for starters. We’d see where it went from there. She was right about one thing, we were an odd couple.
“Is it possible to get pizza without cheese?”