Authors: Christine Zolendz

Brutally Beautiful (35 page)

BOOK: Brutally Beautiful

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After ordering drinks and all-you-can-eat crab legs, Kathryn leans across the table and says, “So Car Fairy, what’d you do to make it start?”

Deciding that I was done with this topic and ready to move on to different questions and answers, I simply say, “Got ya a new battery.”

“How’d you get under my hood without my keys?” Kathryn asks, truly confused.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” I say, winking at her, as I take a drink.

“Holy smokes, seriously, how many women have you slept with?” Kathryn asks, not batting an eye at the intrusiveness of her question.

“Excuse me,” I choke on my drink, buying time to make sure I heard her correctly. “What’d you say?”

“How many women have just full out fallen for this whole mysterious, sexy stranger thing?” she asks again.

“You think I’m sexy?” I inquire, raising my brows.

Kathryn leans over, grabs her purse, and takes out a small mirror. Opening the case, she holds it in front of me, and says, “I had no idea you didn’t own one of these. This is a mirror. Mirror. Take a look.” She shakes the mirror in front of me. “People pay big bucks to look like you, Casanova.”

Kathryn retracts the mirror, closes the case, and stirs more sweetener into her unsweetened tea. The whole time, I am staring dumbfounded at her. This is not the type of girl I’m used to. Kathryn is straightforward, honest, and as intriguing as Hell.

Before I can answer, she says, “So, why’re you pulling out the big guns on me?” She takes a sip of her tea, frowns, and adds in straight sugar this time. After tasting it again and grimacing, she calls the server over and orders a large sweet tea. Now that’s some funny shit. There are no false pretenses with this woman.

The server glances at her briefly, looks at me, and says, “We have the sweetest tea here; it just melts on your tongue. It really whets your appetite.” Then she licks her lips and leans over, smiling at me, giving my line of vision a direct assault on her cleavage.

Kathryn begins laughing, loudly with a snort, and says, “Sweetie, it’s liquid. It doesn’t have to melt. And it’s wet, so it’s going to wet anything it touches.”

Kathryn shakes her head, takes a deep breath, exhales, and says, “Write your number on the check when we leave, and make sure to put a big heart over whatever “i” is in your name, but for the love of God, please keep your panties on until I leave.”

The waitress leaves quickly and a few moments later a different server returns, dropping off her sweet tea quickly and quietly. I’m not sure what is happening, but I can feel myself being captivated by this woman. I’m tempted to ask her if she even knows the definitions of demure, dainty, or coy, because she is none of those things. But yet, she is the most “womanly” woman I’ve ever encountered.

“Aright, back to my question, the one before Allie with an “i” drenched us in her drool,” she says, cracking open a crab leg and pulling out a huge hunk of meat. Meanwhile, my crab legs are coming out in aggravating little strips. I’m enthralled by her talent, envious of her expertise. Not to mention, fucking starving.

After dipping the meat in butter and putting it in her mouth, she questions, “Why am I getting the ‘full court press’ treatment?”

“Ahhhh basketball fan?” I ask, nodding appreciatively.

“Not at all. I just know my clichés and analogies. Stop avoiding the question,” she commands.

“Can’t a man see a beautiful woman and want to help her out, spend a little time with her, get to know her?” I ask, reaching for her hand. She quickly puts her hand on her lap. “Why does there have to be some hidden agenda?”

“There doesn’t have to be. But in this case, the agenda is so hidden, people are going to find Jimmy Hoffa, before they figure out what you’re up to,” she says. “I don’t play games. I don’t act all giggly and giddy for some hot guy on the street. So, I’d like to request the same honesty in return.”

“Why do you keep talking about how hot or sexy I am?” I ask, truthfully curious.

“Are you kidding? Guys like you don’t talk to girls like me…unless you’re asking who my friend at the bar is that looks like Blake Lively,” Kathryn replies honestly, a slight frown forming on her face.

“Do you have a friend who looks like Blake Lively?” I ask, joking.

“Yeah…actually…Syd’s prettier…if you can believe that,” she admits, rolling her eyes.

I love her honesty. She almost makes me want to be honest and upfront with her…almost. But this isn’t horseshoes, so almost doesn’t count.

However, I do decide a little truth here might actually pay off. “I’ve been stalking you.” She rolls her eyes again and sighs, revealing her annoyance. “No truthfully,” I continue, “last month, I heard you tell someone on your phone that you wouldn’t be an accomplice in his extra marital activities.”

Kathryn’s eyes widen, recalling the incident. “I come from a long line of lying and cunning women. I loved your abrasiveness, your honesty. I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“Did you purposely disconnect my battery?” Kathryn asks, eyeing me with caution.

“No, my big plan was to ask you for directions to Battery Park. I got lucky with your dead battery,” I confess.

“Directions? Really? That was the best you had?” she says, shaking her head. “I’d have thought you had better game than that, Dre,” she scolds.

I laugh, throwing my head back. Kathryn’s funny. I like that. “Yeah well, it’s been a long month. Plus the heat fucks with my mind—wait—did you just call me ‘Dre?’ How’d--”

“My secretary has the biggest mouth on the planet. I knew the plan the second you got my keys,” she admits, matter-of-factly. “We have a ton of connections at Seaside, Dre Donley, handyman.”

“I thought you didn’t play games?” I ask, smirking.

“I don’t play, Dre. I win,” Kathryn states, flawlessly cracking open another crab leg.

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