Shaken Not Stirred (Mixology #1)(10)
Author: Alyssa Rose Ivy

“Yeah, but lucky for you I have no life.”

He turned toward me. “I plan to change that. No reason to leave you with enough time that you can accept last-minute dates from other guys.”

“Worried about other guys, are you?”

He pulled out onto the street. Ocean Drive, otherwise known as Highway 12. The one road that wound its way through all of the Outer Banks. There was only a small strip of land separating the sound from the ocean this far out. “Do I have a reason to be?”

“I am out on a date with you right now, aren’t I?” My thoughts went to Lyle, but I easily pushed them away. I needed to live in the moment.

“That you are. The second date in two days I might add.”

“Reminding me?”

“Just reveling in my success.”

“Success?”

“I was successful at getting a beautiful woman to go out with my twice. That’s something to feel good about.”

That was the first time anyone had ever called me a beautiful woman. All the guys I dated before called me a girl, and I could count on one hand all the times anyone other than my family had called me beautiful. “Hot” or “pretty” were the more frequently used terms boys used when they were trying to get you into bed.

“Well, I was successful at getting a handsome man to take me out twice.”

“Am I handsome?” His arm brushed against mine as he reached to turn on the radio.

“Very.”

“Glad to know you think so.”

“At the risk of sounding incredibly shallow, I’m going to admit I don’t usually date men who are not handsome.”

“Oh yeah? It’s all about the looks?”

“No. I want personality and a sense of humor too.”

“In other words, you have high standards.”

I turned up the volume on the radio so I could hear the music over the wind, it was a catchy electronic-pop song I couldn’t resist singing along to when I was alone. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I have high standards.”

“Glad I passed the test for a second date.”

“You passed the test for a lot more than a second. I’m the one hoping for a third.” He pulled into the lot of Owen’s.

He helped me out of the car and held my hand as we walked inside.

He smiled at the hostess without letting go of my hand. “Morris.”

She looked down at her book. “Yes, right this way.”

Colin pulled out my chair, pushing me in once I was settled. Either he was a real gentleman, or he was really good at faking it.

“Would you like wine?” Colin asked.

“Uh, sure. But I’m fine with an iced tea or something too.”

“Which would you prefer?”

“An iced tea.” I’d found I drank less since I started bartending.

“Sweetened or unsweetened?” He didn’t ask me again to double-check, and I liked that.

“Sweetened.”

“Okay then.”

Colin asked for two iced teas when the waiter arrived and ordered us some steamed mussels. I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the casual feel we had going. I ordered fish, something I rarely had when it wasn’t fried anymore. When you’re nearly broke, seafood, even in a beach community, is pricy. Colin ordered some sort of shrimp.

“What do you do for fun?” He set aside his half-empty iced tea glass.

“Wow, I haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“What? It’s kind of a required early dating question.”

“Then can we skip the required ones and ask interesting ones instead.”

He smiled. “Okay. Toilet paper. Over or under?”

I laughed. “That’s your question?”

“You didn’t like the hobby one.”

“Over. Who would choose under?”

“I don’t know. Someone.” He shifted in his chair and his leg grazed mine. He didn’t move it.

“My turn. Brush your teeth before breakfast or after?”

“Before. Floss after.”

“Two-part?”

“Yeah. It works.”

The waiter brought our food over, momentarily breaking the conversation.

I took a few bites of my fish, glancing around the restaurant.

“Where’s the strangest place you’ve had sex?”

I swallowed hard. “Excuse me?”

“You wanted interesting questions.” His smirk told me he enjoyed my reaction.

“Since when did past sexual experiences qualify as interesting?”

“Since forever.”

“You first.”

“I asked first.”

“Can I pass on this one?”

“Why? It can’t be that bad. Can it?” The gleam in his eye bordered on naughty, a far cry from the guy who didn’t kiss me after our first date.

“A tractor.” I didn’t look down when I said it. I met his eye.

“As in farm equipment?”

“Do you know of another tractor?”

“Wow. I bet there’s a story behind that one.”

“Not a good one.”

“I beg to differ.”

“There was a big party. It was a closed space. End of story.” I was ready to look down. It sounded worse and worse.

“A big party where there happened to be a tractor?”

“There’s some farm country around Charlottesville.”

“I guess so.” He took a bite of his shrimp.

“Your turn.”

“The couch.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s true. I’ve never been lucky enough to have sex in something as exciting as a tractor before.”

I set aside my fork. “If I find out you’re holding back…”

“How would you do that? Interview my ex-girlfriends?”

“You’d be surprised how resourceful I can be.” I broke apart a roll. The inside was still warm, perfect.

“Maybe if the bartending thing doesn’t work out, you can try your luck as a private eye.”

“Something to keep in my back pocket I guess.”

“You’re the only person our age I’ve ever heard use that expression.”

“Are you trying to say I sound old?”

“No. You just use the same sayings as my grandfather.”

“Why is it that every single guy I spend time with insists on making fun of me?”

“So there is competition.”

“I’m talking about Macon and Brody.”