Page 23 of Absinthe Minded

“The guy sounds like an asshole.”

“He’s not the first asshole I’ve run across.” I folded my arms.

“I should have returned your calls.” Gabe reached for my shoulder.

“Water under the bridge.” I dodged his hand and went for my drink.

Gabe scooted the glass out of my grasp. “Is it?”

“Yes.”At least I thought it was until he’d showed up looking all sexy and cleaned my house and paid my electric bill. “Besides, I can’t jump in the sack with anyone. Your mother watches me like a hawk. She’s taking me back to court next month. If I start sleeping around, I’ll lose the kids quicker than the Baptists make it to Sunday brunch.”

Gabe slid the drink in my direction. “She doesn’t need to know.”

I raised the glass for a toast. “Here’s to your mother getting a new hobby besides harassing me.”

“Is she that bad?”

“She’s on me like a tick on a two-legged hound dog.” Imagining Evelyn clinging to a dog like a starving vampire made me giggle.

Gabe snorted and motioned to my glass. “More whiskey? You’re more fun drunk.”

“Why, thank you.”

“How’s work going? Are you writing another crime novel?”

I downed the remainder of my drink. “No. I haven’t had time to work on another book. I write society pieces. They’re garbage.”

“I’ve read your articles. They’re not garbage.”

“No one reads reviews for cultural events in New Orleans. Locals know what they like, and most tourists come for booze, boobs, and beads.” I winked. “Oh sorry, that’s right up your alley.”

“Just because I run a bar doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate culture.”

“I remember the ballet turned you on.”

“Thinking about what I would do to youafterthe ballet turned me on.”

I narrowed my eyes and tried to think of a snarky remark but snapped my mouth shut.Damn him, and his after-the-ballet sex talk.

Gabe grew quiet, which made me nervous. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Don’t be. I chalked it up to a learning experience. I’m over it.”

“Are you?”

“We’ve already covered this. Water under the table. Bridge. I mean water under the table, and I can still drink you under the bridge.” I turned too fast and teetered, only to be caught around the middle by his strong arms. Pressed against his muscular chest, I glanced up a split second before his lips came down on mine.

Unlike the quick exchanges I’d shared with Justin, Gabe kissed me like a man with a PhD in seduction. He cupped my face and invaded my mouth. My defenses crumpled, along with my knees. A sound of surrender escaped me. But rather than claiming victory—Gabe retreated.

“Something wrong?” I whispered, holding the counter for support.

“I’m beat.” Gabe’s hand brushed over my hip.

I wanted to kiss him again or hold him or invite him to my room. On the other hand, I wanted to throat punch him and toss him out of my house. I couldn’t go down this road with him again. I wouldn’t survive it.

As if he’d read my mind, Gabe frowned and ran his over the back of his neck. “Good night, Maggie.”

“Good night.”

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