Page 6 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
It takes a second for me to connect the pun, but once I do, I nearly spit out my drink.
“What?” she says innocently. “Hazel told us to keep it clean. It’s technically clean.”
“Yes, she did…”
Though clean is the last word I’d use to describe the thoughts I’m having right now. Maybe it’s because we’re now sitting next to each other. Maybe it’s because that perfume is clouding my brain. Or possibly because every time she smiles, it’s a combination of flirty, sexy, and smart, and it’s getting me going in the best possible way.
“So, are you from here?”
She laughs under her breath as she sets down the marker after writing our names down on the white board mounted at our table. “Is this the point of the night when we get to know each other, since we skipped over that during our speed date?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ll talk for seven minutes about music any day. But if we’re going to be trivia partners, and if I’m going to take you out to dinner this weekend, I figure we should get the boring first-date questions out of the way.”
“You’re that sure I’d say yes to a dinner date?”
She raises her eyebrow, but not in a confused way. No, the look in this woman’s eye just told me everything I was pretty sure I already knew—that she’s going to go toe-to-toe with me in every aspect of tonight.
I fucking love it.
“Yes, dinner’s easy. It’s just a meal and a conversation.” I lean in closer to her, needing to whisper this next part. “Now breakfast? That’s the meal you need to work for.”
I don’t know if my words take her by surprise. If they do, she doesn’t show it. No, she just puts back on that flirtatious smile and answers my original question.
“No, I moved here a year ago from Los Angeles.”
“Another Nashville transplant,” I joke. “Don't worry, so am I.”
“I didn’t know there were so many of us,” she says. “Is there a club I need to join?”
“Nah. It’s just a badge of honor we wear that pisses off the locals. Especially when they find out I’m from Connecticut.”
She covers her heart and feigns a mocking shock. “Why, I do declare. A Yankee? In Nashville?”
It’s really unfair that she’s beautiful, has impeccable music taste, and funny. I don’t stand a fucking chance of not falling for this woman. “You know, for not being from the South, you do that accent pretty well.”
She takes a small bow. “In my short time here, I’ve become enmeshed with my fair share of born-and-bred Tennesseans. I’ve picked up a few things along the way.”
“And they don’t give you shit for being from California?”
She shakes her head. “Not this group. I’ve been really lucky to meet some amazing people. I was hesitant to move here, but they made me feel welcomed.”
“Did you come here for work?”
She nods, but doesn’t elaborate. “You?”
“Same,” I say. “My company has offices in New York, which is where I started as an underling. But three years ago, I got promoted, which came with a move here. And I figured, why not? I was still in my twenties. I’d never lived outside of theNortheast before, so if I was ever going to move, that was the time.”
“I get it,” she says. “We’re only young once.”
“Cheers to that,” I say as we each raise our drinks in a toast. “To transplants and unexpected meetings.”
She smiles as she taps her glass against mine. “To winning trivia and hopefully more.”
We share a look and a smile as we take sips of our drinks. I want to keep getting to know her—what she does, more of her interests. Really, wherever the conversation will go, but when we set our drinks down, the emcee gets on the mic to start going over the directions for the game.
It’s fine. We have all night. And hopefully, many more nights after this.
“So do you have any specialty categories that I can take a backseat on?” I ask.
