She didn’t flinch, despite the fact that I looked her straight in those deep brown eyes. Her lashes were long, though not unusually so. I wasn’t a fan of those fake ones, or fake anything really, and hers were one hundred percent real. As were, I’d guess, the large breasts straining against her T-shirt.
“It’s good,” she said, her voice sending chills up to my neck. It was as seductive as I’d imagined. “But I’m not usually a beer drinker.”
“A wine girl, then?”
Her eyes darted to her friend and then back to me. “Wine. Vodka. I’ve even been liking gin lately.”
“Nice. Gin and tonic?”
“London Lemonade.”
“I’ll be right back,” her friend cut in. “Ladies room,” she explained, darting off. Which was just fine by me.
“So are you here for the day or weekend?” It was usually one of the two.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure yet, to be honest.”
So she was spontaneous too. “So, what’s a wine girl doing in a brewery? You know we have two wineries too. Have you been?”
She blinked, hesitating. “Not yet.”
“Your friend is a beer girl then?”
Instead of answering, she made a sound that could be taken as a ‘yes’ and reached for her glass. “What about you? What’s your drink of choice?” she asked me.
That was an easy one. “Craft beer, hands down.”
“Makes sense you’d work here then.”
I’d correct her. Say, ‘I don’t work here, I own the place. And the entire estate, actually,’ but that wouldn’t score me any points with this one. Some women? Yes. But my sense was that it would take a lot to impress her.
“I’d hardly call it work, to be honest.” And that was true. “This,” I gestured between us, indicating our conversation, “is anything but work.”
Just a hint of a smile poked through. “Fair enough. You’re lucky to like what you do.”
I could tell by her tone she didn’t care for her job at all. “You’re not a fan of yours?”
Again, she hesitated. “The only thing I dislike more than law school is being a lawyer.”
“Ahh, an attorney.”
She laughed at that. The sound was nearly as sweet as her perfume. “We’re not that bad.”
“There are a few good ones out there. I’m sure you’re one of them.”
She finished a sip of her beer. “You think so?”
“I do.”
“What makes you say that?”
I wasn’t imagining things. She said that with a flirty tone to her voice.
“Because you’re clearly smart. It’s a good start.”
Again, that cute chuckle. “How do you know I’m smart?”
I tried not to smile. “Because you’re here, talking to me.”