Just Surrender... by Kathleen O'Reilly Page B

That was the Why of all these actions.
    He was no different than any other male.
    And why was her brain not okay with his honesty thing?
    What was the big deal? It was a big freaking deal, that’s what it was, because the Tylers of the world were upstanding, good-hearted. They didn’t tell lies…comfortably. They were the very sort of men her parents would approve of.
    Damn. It.
    “Do you want a drink?” asked Dudley Do-Right.
    “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked hopefully.
    “No.” More of that honesty thing. Edie struggled to push her hair behind her ear. Tyler reached out and did it for her, and it wasn’t a sexy, come-hither touch. It was a comfortable touch, an easy touch, and Edie could feel the panic welling in her stomach, pushing up through her throat. “I don’t do relationships,” she stated, firmly meeting his gaze.
    “You’ve said that many times.”
    “Sex is it,” she affirmed.
    “Yes, you’ve said that, as well.” The perky salesclerk started flirting with Mr. Cologne, and exchanging meaningless lines, and Edie considered edging closer to that conversation, because frankly, it was easier. But Tyler, perhaps sensing her extreme uneasiness, perhaps due to the nervous tic in her eye, picked up a pink card and examined it with more attention than the damned thing deserved. “‘You make everything sweeter.’ What’s wrong with that?”
    And now they were back in her comfort zone, critiquing overwrought sentimentality. “Oh, come on. Do you really have to ask? What is sweeter? Sweeter than what? Good grief, too much sugar makes people throw up.”
    “Actually, it’s more intolerance or malabsorption. Fructose can in fact be used as an antiemetic.”
    “Then that’s what’s wrong with it.”
    “Have you ever sent a greeting card to anyone?” he asked casually, carelessly.
    “My father,” she said casually, carelessly.
    Tyler didn’t look at her, instead he studied the stacks of cards in front of him and began randomly picking some out. Edie wasn’t sure why he was overindulging in greeting cards, but they weren’t talking, and her eye tic wasn’t bothering her anymore, so she played along.
    Apparently Tyler wasn’t a meticulous shopper, because he had a stack of about thirty cards when he approached the clerk and asked to pay.
    After that, they walked out into the night, and headed for a bar in the next block. Secretly, Edie approved. Sure, he had a year’s supply of greeting cards, but if she were lucky, they were going to order a few shots, and critique the hell out of all of them.
    His phone rang and he looked at the display and then swore.
    Instantly, Edie was on alert. “Cynthia?”
    He shook his head, pressed the button to ignore. “No.” He pulled open the bar’s heavy wooden door, and she followed him inside.
    It was an old-style place with wooden floors and three long mahogany counters that outlined the packed room. Behind the bar, there were photographs of average Joes who likely frequented the place. In less than a second, Tyler had found a newly vacated table.
    “How did you know they were going to leave?” asked Edie. She hadn’t seen any of the usual signs: empty drink glasses, rolled-up napkins, or a leather folio with the bill.
    Tyler shrugged. “I gave them a fifty.”
    “Very creative. You don’t usually see that much imagination from out-of-towners.”
    “I don’t like to wait,” he explained, sitting down at the table, and laying out the greeting cards in front of him. A waitress introduced herself as Tessa and took their drink orders. Tyler asked for a diet soda. Edie asked for tequila. He looked at her expectantly, and slowly, reluctantly, she changed it to soda. “With lots of ice, please,” she added, lest he think that she was one of those lemming sort of women who needed a man to tell them what to do.
    While she sipped her soda, which was mostly ice, she watched as he studied the cards, then pulled a Swiss Army knife from his