forth. “You are right. I did let myself become helpless to your…” Charm seemed like the right word, but it really wasn’t. She glanced at him. “Helpless to your whisk .” More pacing. “But that’s because of me, not you, you ass.”
“You?”
“Of course. I’ve always tried to curb my draw to dangerous things.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! And don’t give me that condescending tone either.”
“I’ll try not to, love.”
“And don’t call me love.”
“Um, okay. Phoebe.”
“Don’t call me that either.” She hated it when he said her name; it did funny things to her insides. “Obviously, I was weak today, after…” She threw a wave of her hand in his general direction. “After the other night. And it…it…has clouded my judgment. Ha, ha! Because there is no way I would ever, ever let you do …do those things you did to me if I was in my right mind.”
He seemed confused. “So, is this my fault…or yours? You’ve utterly lost me, sweetheart.”
“It’s my fault.” Was he stupid? “Because I, for some reason, behave totally irrationally when I’m around you!”
“Is that so?” He lifted his ass and pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket. “Interesting.” He extracted a cigarette out of the pack and stuck it in his mouth. Then he flipped open a silver lighter.
She gasped in exasperation. “What are you doing?”
He ignited the lighter and put a flame to the nicotine stick perched on the right side of his lips. “What does it look like, love? Surely out here in hippie central you’ve seen someone light up.”
She stalked over and smacked the lighter out of his hand. “You can’t smoke in here!”
“But you just keep talking. It’s tiresome. I need a little pick-me-up.”
She yanked the cigarette from his lips and threw it over his shoulder. “It’s illegal! If the health inspector came in and saw you, we could get written up!”
He just looked at her. “That’s easily taken care of, babe.”
“Oh yeah? Do share your ultimate wisdom with this inexperienced minion.”
“You give him a hundred bucks.”
“What? No! We’ve proudly been scored 99 since the day this establishment opened. Fair and square.”
He quirked an annoying dark brow. “What was the one percent you missed?”
She sniffed and looked down at him. “A patron snuck a dog into the restaurant inside her purse.”
He laughed. Loudly. “You’re kidding.”
“Of course not. Why?”
Retrieving his lighter off the floor, he said, “That’s just so…L.A. of you all.”
“It was a special-needs dog.”
“Is that so?” He stuck another cigarette in his mouth.
“Yes! It is. Was.”
“So why’d you get written up? If it was, indeed, a special-needs dog?”
She smoothed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “The patron didn’t have the appropriate papers.”
“And this special-needs dog was what? A golden retriever? A Labrador?” Once again, he flicked his lighter open.
Phoebe ignored it when he put the flame to the Marlboro stuck in his mouth. Trying to disregard the smell of burning nicotine that immediately swirled into the storage room, she said, “It was a hairless dog.”
He coughed on some smoke. “A what?”
“A hairless dog. You know, it didn’t have any hair. What harm could there possibly have been?”
“You mean like that cat from Austin Powers ? Was the dog shagadelic ?” He smirked at his own joke.
“Shut up.” Stomping over, she plucked the cigarette out of his mouth. She then proceeded to put it to her own mouth and take a deep drag.
He was looking at her as if she’d just grown snakes out of her head. Well, if she looked in the mirror, she might think he was right. Surely, her hair looked a fright.
Closing her eyes, she let the smoke fill her lungs.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked incredulously.
Her eyes popped open, and she slowly exhaled, making sure to blow the smoke directly toward his face. “What?” she said,
“You?”
“Of course. I’ve always tried to curb my draw to dangerous things.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! And don’t give me that condescending tone either.”
“I’ll try not to, love.”
“And don’t call me love.”
“Um, okay. Phoebe.”
“Don’t call me that either.” She hated it when he said her name; it did funny things to her insides. “Obviously, I was weak today, after…” She threw a wave of her hand in his general direction. “After the other night. And it…it…has clouded my judgment. Ha, ha! Because there is no way I would ever, ever let you do …do those things you did to me if I was in my right mind.”
He seemed confused. “So, is this my fault…or yours? You’ve utterly lost me, sweetheart.”
“It’s my fault.” Was he stupid? “Because I, for some reason, behave totally irrationally when I’m around you!”
“Is that so?” He lifted his ass and pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket. “Interesting.” He extracted a cigarette out of the pack and stuck it in his mouth. Then he flipped open a silver lighter.
She gasped in exasperation. “What are you doing?”
He ignited the lighter and put a flame to the nicotine stick perched on the right side of his lips. “What does it look like, love? Surely out here in hippie central you’ve seen someone light up.”
She stalked over and smacked the lighter out of his hand. “You can’t smoke in here!”
“But you just keep talking. It’s tiresome. I need a little pick-me-up.”
She yanked the cigarette from his lips and threw it over his shoulder. “It’s illegal! If the health inspector came in and saw you, we could get written up!”
He just looked at her. “That’s easily taken care of, babe.”
“Oh yeah? Do share your ultimate wisdom with this inexperienced minion.”
“You give him a hundred bucks.”
“What? No! We’ve proudly been scored 99 since the day this establishment opened. Fair and square.”
He quirked an annoying dark brow. “What was the one percent you missed?”
She sniffed and looked down at him. “A patron snuck a dog into the restaurant inside her purse.”
He laughed. Loudly. “You’re kidding.”
“Of course not. Why?”
Retrieving his lighter off the floor, he said, “That’s just so…L.A. of you all.”
“It was a special-needs dog.”
“Is that so?” He stuck another cigarette in his mouth.
“Yes! It is. Was.”
“So why’d you get written up? If it was, indeed, a special-needs dog?”
She smoothed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “The patron didn’t have the appropriate papers.”
“And this special-needs dog was what? A golden retriever? A Labrador?” Once again, he flicked his lighter open.
Phoebe ignored it when he put the flame to the Marlboro stuck in his mouth. Trying to disregard the smell of burning nicotine that immediately swirled into the storage room, she said, “It was a hairless dog.”
He coughed on some smoke. “A what?”
“A hairless dog. You know, it didn’t have any hair. What harm could there possibly have been?”
“You mean like that cat from Austin Powers ? Was the dog shagadelic ?” He smirked at his own joke.
“Shut up.” Stomping over, she plucked the cigarette out of his mouth. She then proceeded to put it to her own mouth and take a deep drag.
He was looking at her as if she’d just grown snakes out of her head. Well, if she looked in the mirror, she might think he was right. Surely, her hair looked a fright.
Closing her eyes, she let the smoke fill her lungs.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked incredulously.
Her eyes popped open, and she slowly exhaled, making sure to blow the smoke directly toward his face. “What?” she said,
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