2. Grady
Chapter 2
Grady
S he was sloshed.
Completely and totally wasted. Margot Devereaux-Blanchard was drunk off her ass. And adorable, blast the annoying woman. The last thing I needed to be reminded of was my own inconvenient attraction to the stuck up harpy. She went out of her way to let me know I wasn’t in her league, that my business was below her standards, to show her disdain for me, but watching her spread out on my bar floor giggling, none of it mattered. I hopped over the bar and squatted down to help Margot to her feet.
“Did you eat anything with those martinis?”
She grunted as she tried to stand, her ridiculous red stiletto slipped and she was on the ground again.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“You only serve greasy bar food, and I don’t eat greasy food in a bar, or otherwise,” she answered haughtily. It wasn’t a surprise she didn’t eat fatty foods, her body told the story. She was of average height and perfectly lean except in her tits and her hips, especially in the navy blue dress she wore. Her silver hair was pinned up to show off sharp cheekbones, a delicate jaw and a slender neck. Her violet eyes missed nothing and expressed everything, even what she wished to hide her emotions. Her stomach growled, and she covered it as if that could hide the noise.
I laughed at her. Even tipsy and wobbly on her heels, she could manage to get in a snobby jab. “Sorry to tell you honey, but a salad ain’t gonna sober you up.”
My words had the intended effect. Margot shrugged out of my hold and made an attempt to stand on her own. “I’m not your honey.”
“Believe me, I know. If you were my honey I would have fucked the uptight out of you a long time ago.”
As expected, she let out a shocked gasp, and put a few more feet between us. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
“Really? You think I’m a useless bum, but the word fuck is a step too far?” I snorted and shook my head. There was no point rehashing just how little she thought of me. “Cash or card?”
“Right.” She bent down and picked up her purse, which was empty, the lipstick, compact and money clip were all still on the bar floor. “Well, that’s not going to work.” She bent over again and her legs wobbled a second or two before they gave out completely.
“For fuck’s sake woman,” I growled and jumped over the bar to pick up the unsteady woman and set her in a booth so she wouldn’t hurt herself or my bar furniture. “Stay.”
“Don’t order me around like a dog,” she called after me, but I ignored her. “Hey, where are you going?”
I stopped at the door without turning to look at her. “I’ll be right back.”
“But where are you going?”
I pushed open the door that separated the bar from the kitchen and storage areas and stepped inside. Despite what princess high and mighty thought, grease was exactly what she needed to sober up enough to get her the hell out of my bar. Fifteen minutes later I returned with two plates piled high with food that paired perfectly with a night of drinking. “Eat up,” I ordered brusquely and sat across from her to dig into my short rib nachos.
“I am not going to eat this!”
I nodded. “You damn well are, at least if you don’t want a pounding headache, dry mouth and blotchy skin tomorrow. Hangovers are not fun after thirty.”
I knew the argument would sway, her but still Margot was a stubborn woman and she took her time, mulling over her options. Looking and feeling terrible tomorrow, or sharing a greasy bar meal with me. “Fine, but I am not eating the bun,” she announced and pointed at the burger.
“The bun is what will help soak up the alcohol.” I filled another nacho high with toppings and chewed it, nodding at her burger and fries. “You know if you added some exercise to your day you wouldn’t have to eat like a bird.”
She glared at me as I continued to eat, ignoring her anger mostly because I was used to it. Eventually she picked up the burger and put it to her lips. “My god that is wonderful!” She let out several erotic moans and groans as she ate and I was thankful the table covered the effect her sounds had on me. “Mmm, so good.” The words came out on a guttural growl that old me there was more beneath her prissy surface than she wanted the world to know.
I pushed the tall glass of water in her direction. “Drink.”
That stopped her from inhaling her food just long enough to glare at me and give me a piece of her mind. “Is that how you talk to all women, monosyllabic orders just barked at them?”
“Only the hard-headed ones who don’t listen. Water will help so you don’t feel like ass tomorrow.”
“ Must you be so vulgar?”
“I don’t have to, but you get so bent out of shape about it that it’s just fun. And I don’t make fun of you for talking like you’re some etiquette teacher at an all-girls school in the Fifties. Do I?”
“It’s called manners,” she said primly, and wiped ketchup from the corner of her mouth as she eyed my nachos. “Do you mind if…can I taste your nachos?”
The fact that she even asked surprised me, but I nodded, and took my time finding the perfect chip to pile high with barbecue short ribs, sour cream, cheese and of course, jalapenos.
“Go on. Taste.”
Her breath hitched, and her violet eyes darkened with desire—for me or the food, I couldn’t tell—and she opened her mouth to accept my offering. I slid the chip in and her lush lips closed around it, her tongue swiped part of my thumb before I released the chip and sent a bolt of electricity straight through me. I watched as Margot closed her eyes and chewed, savored all the flavors of one of my best selling dishes.
“Good, right?”
She nodded, and one silver tendril fell loose and curled around her collarbone as she swallowed. “Wow, that is delicious! Really delicious.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say something sarcastic, but I resisted and turned my attention back to the nachos, piling another chip to make sure I had a little of everything on top. Margot grabbed my wrist and I looked up with a frown.
“What’s wrong?”
She tugged my wrist with a smile and brought the chip to her mouth. She nodded more vigorously with every bite, and as she finished, a smile spread across her face. “Oh my! It’s even better on the next bite. Absolutely wonderful!” Her eyes lit up beautifully, and I glanced away for a brief moment and then looked back, just to reassure myself it was the same woman, because this woman, a little bit tipsy and full of smiles for me, was not the Margot I knew. I wasn’t sure if this was the alcohol, or a facet of her personality she kept hidden in favor of the stuck up persona she showed the world. She noticed me staring and her eyes widened in shock. “What? Oh, sorry that was terribly rude. It’s tasty though.”
It didn’t seem to pain her at all to offer up a compliment about my bar, so I smiled and switched our plates, taking the loaded burger and curly fries for myself. “Enjoy.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly let you give up your dinner for me.”
I waved off her concern and popped a fry into my mouth. “Consider it my birthday gift to you.”
Her shoulders fell in resignation and Margot nodded. “Thank you, Grady. That’s really sweet.”
I shrugged off her words, knowing the alcohol put her manners before her dislike of my lower status. “No problem. Eat.”
We ate in silence, until the plates were clean, and I cleared them to the kitchen, returning with more water for Margot and the birthday cake Nina dropped off earlier. “What’s this?”
“Cake. Nina made it for my birthday, and since it’s also your birthday, you can have a slice,” I told her and hesitated. “Unless you don’t eat sugar either?”
“Funny,” she rolled her eyes. “I indulge in sugar occasionally, especially on my birthday. And today of all days,” she groaned and attacked the slice of two-tiered cake with her fork.
“Happy birthday to us,” I said and attacked my slice with the same energy. Nina’s cake was delicious with a layer of vanilla and a layer lemon soaked in hazelnut liqueur. The buttercream frosting made my mouth water even as I ate it.
I noticed that Margot had stopped, and I knew instantly something was wrong, but I kept my focus where it belonged, on my cake. At least that was the plan, but then she burst out in tears. Not the soft, quiet tears I’d have expected from her, but big, wrenching sobs that shook her petite frame until the plate in front of her rattled.
“I’m sorry,” she bawled. “Don’t mind me.”
As if it were really so simple to just ignore a beautiful, bawling woman while she cried her eyes out. With a quiet groan, I pushed away from my seat and rounded the booth to sit beside Margot and wrap my arms around her.
“It’s all right,” I whispered, and ignored the press of her plump breast against my chest as I rubbed soothing circles against her back while she cried and cried. Eventually she needed oxygen, or maybe the tears were coming to an end, but when I pulled back, she looked up at me as tears still swam in her eyes. “Tell me you’re not one of those women crying because you’re getting older.” I smiled in relief in the face of her wicked glare.
Margot was back.