by Whitley Cox
“So.” She turned to face Mr. Sexy-Accent Man. “You staying upstairs? Got a room?”
His smile was slow and sexy, and the way it made every muscle inside her clench had Silver crossing her legs and squeezing before she knew what she was doing. “I don’t fuck drunk chicks.”
Her bottom lip dropped open. “I ... uh ... ”
Reaching back down the bar closer to where he’d been sitting, he snatched a big leather menu off the top of a pile. “Pick something to eat. I’m buying. You need to put some food in your belly, otherwise you won’t be able to walk, let alone talk or fuck in an hour.”
“I ... uh … ”
He flipped open the menu and started perusing. “I could go for a burger. You?”
She hadn’t even been thinking about food. After this afternoon, nothing but booze and lots of it had been on her mind. But then the more she thought about it, the more she realized she was starving. She’d been too nervous to eat this morning. Her aunt had said it was cold feet, the jitters, but now Silver thought perhaps it was intuition. That she knew, deep down, how the day was going to play out.
A burger sounded perfect. A greasy, gooey, cheesy burger with lots of fries. And onion rings. She didn’t have to fit into a dress anymore, so she’d eat whatever she wanted.
She nodded. “Sounds perfect.”
