bottle of vodka, wondered now what? Jake answered his phone with a short yeah, paused for a moment, then walked out the front door.
Girlfriend, Robin mused, and strolled to the table where he had left his Code Red Mountain Dew. She picked it up, immediately flipped around to the nutrition chart and frowned. “Look at the sugar! Yeah, well, beggers can't be choosers,” she muttered to herself, and taking his drink, went back into the kitchen, stirring up the vodka and the pink soda in true tornado fashion.
By the time Jake came back in, looking a little flushed, she thought, Robin lifted the bright red drink on which she had managed to put a frothy pink head. “Salut,” she said and sipped the concoction, then flopped down on a dining room chair.
Jake looked at her drink, then the table. “Hey!” he said sharply. “Where's my Dew?”
Robin blinked.
“Man, don't you even ask? That was my Dew!”
Well, good God, the man liked his Dew! “Oh,” she said lightly flicking her hand at the table, “I thought you were done.”
“Done? How could you think I was done? There was a full soda left!”
“Jeez, it was just a soda!” she complained, miffed that he should be so miffed. “So bill me! Bill me for a case if you want!”
He sighed, looked at the ceiling for a long moment, then bestowed her with a very pointed gaze. “I think you're missing the point,” he said tightly. “You just can't eat a man's doughnuts and drink his Dew! It's… it's uncouth!”
Robin almost choked on a sudden bark of laughter. “Un-couth?” she cried, laughing.
Jake's expression turned uncomfortably dark; he
clenched his jaw, shook his head as he snatched up a putty knife and began to scrape around the window casings with a vengeance, chipping off bigger and bigger pieces of paint.
Robin could see the bulge of his jaw and felt, surprisingly, a little contrite. Okay, so she probably shouldn't have taken his drink without asking (the doughnuts were another story). And she shouldn't have laughed at him. But then again, he really needed to lighten up—it was just a soda!
She sipped, watching him, wondering what she could say to break the silence. “Seems like that would go a lot quicker if you used one of those chemical peels,” she observed, ignoring the fact that all she knew about chemical peels came from facials.
Jake spared her a glance. “I'll do that with the wall. Right now I am trying to see what is underneath.”
“You should at least get a bigger knife.”
“T hank s for the free advice. At least I think it's free.”
Drink a man's Dew and he sure lost his sense of humor. Nonetheless, Robin determined that at the rate he was going, he would be in her house two years at least. “You know, you really need to speed it up.”
He threw down the knife and picked up the towel. “So,” he said casually, wiping his hands, “you hit a police officer, then burned down your office?”
“I didn't hit him!” Robin instantly cried. “I just mouthed off.”
“Imagine that.”
“The incident has been blown way out of proportion by my grandma.”
Jake looked up from his hands, the copper in his eyes shining with… something. Inappropriate glee? “So what'd you say?”
She shrugged sheepishly, examined the ice bobbing in her drink for a moment. “I called him an idiot cop. Which probably wouldn't have been so bad if I could have found my wallet, but my wallet was being burned in the fire at my office. And then… I refused to give him my name.”
Jake nodded thoughtfully, seemed to mull it over. “Why? Was he one of your perverts or something?”
Oh, hardy har. Squirming a bit, she thought about exactly why she had done it, and winced. “Because he was bothering me,” she finally muttered, realizing how ridiculous she sounded, especially since it was the God's honest truth. Hell, she was an idiot.
To confirm it, Jake shook his head in disbelief. “So what did he say?”
“He called me Miss Smartass and
Girlfriend, Robin mused, and strolled to the table where he had left his Code Red Mountain Dew. She picked it up, immediately flipped around to the nutrition chart and frowned. “Look at the sugar! Yeah, well, beggers can't be choosers,” she muttered to herself, and taking his drink, went back into the kitchen, stirring up the vodka and the pink soda in true tornado fashion.
By the time Jake came back in, looking a little flushed, she thought, Robin lifted the bright red drink on which she had managed to put a frothy pink head. “Salut,” she said and sipped the concoction, then flopped down on a dining room chair.
Jake looked at her drink, then the table. “Hey!” he said sharply. “Where's my Dew?”
Robin blinked.
“Man, don't you even ask? That was my Dew!”
Well, good God, the man liked his Dew! “Oh,” she said lightly flicking her hand at the table, “I thought you were done.”
“Done? How could you think I was done? There was a full soda left!”
“Jeez, it was just a soda!” she complained, miffed that he should be so miffed. “So bill me! Bill me for a case if you want!”
He sighed, looked at the ceiling for a long moment, then bestowed her with a very pointed gaze. “I think you're missing the point,” he said tightly. “You just can't eat a man's doughnuts and drink his Dew! It's… it's uncouth!”
Robin almost choked on a sudden bark of laughter. “Un-couth?” she cried, laughing.
Jake's expression turned uncomfortably dark; he
clenched his jaw, shook his head as he snatched up a putty knife and began to scrape around the window casings with a vengeance, chipping off bigger and bigger pieces of paint.
Robin could see the bulge of his jaw and felt, surprisingly, a little contrite. Okay, so she probably shouldn't have taken his drink without asking (the doughnuts were another story). And she shouldn't have laughed at him. But then again, he really needed to lighten up—it was just a soda!
She sipped, watching him, wondering what she could say to break the silence. “Seems like that would go a lot quicker if you used one of those chemical peels,” she observed, ignoring the fact that all she knew about chemical peels came from facials.
Jake spared her a glance. “I'll do that with the wall. Right now I am trying to see what is underneath.”
“You should at least get a bigger knife.”
“T hank s for the free advice. At least I think it's free.”
Drink a man's Dew and he sure lost his sense of humor. Nonetheless, Robin determined that at the rate he was going, he would be in her house two years at least. “You know, you really need to speed it up.”
He threw down the knife and picked up the towel. “So,” he said casually, wiping his hands, “you hit a police officer, then burned down your office?”
“I didn't hit him!” Robin instantly cried. “I just mouthed off.”
“Imagine that.”
“The incident has been blown way out of proportion by my grandma.”
Jake looked up from his hands, the copper in his eyes shining with… something. Inappropriate glee? “So what'd you say?”
She shrugged sheepishly, examined the ice bobbing in her drink for a moment. “I called him an idiot cop. Which probably wouldn't have been so bad if I could have found my wallet, but my wallet was being burned in the fire at my office. And then… I refused to give him my name.”
Jake nodded thoughtfully, seemed to mull it over. “Why? Was he one of your perverts or something?”
Oh, hardy har. Squirming a bit, she thought about exactly why she had done it, and winced. “Because he was bothering me,” she finally muttered, realizing how ridiculous she sounded, especially since it was the God's honest truth. Hell, she was an idiot.
To confirm it, Jake shook his head in disbelief. “So what did he say?”
“He called me Miss Smartass and
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