Beardo’s frown deepened. “So you set your expectations so low you’re never disappointed.”
“Well…it sounds kind of awful when you say it like that…but…yes.” She shook the cookies gently to remind him to take them.
“I also have very low expectations.” He yanked the tin from her hand and popped the top, then sniffed at it. “I’m going to eat all of these.”
“Okay.” They stared at each other for the count of three blinks, and this was her cue to leave. “Okay, thanks, bye.” Nevada spun on her heel and speed walked toward the door.
“Nox.”
“I’m sorry?” she asked, then shook her head and got embarrassed again. “I mean…what?”
“My name is Nox. I hate people and will be a really shitty conversationalist. I like the quiet, and I don’t like new things or change. Or fuck-faces who wait in parking lots for girls.”
“Okay,” she said in a high-pitched voice.
“That’s as close to an invite as you’re going to get.” He tipped his head toward the barstool beside him. And then he turned around and ordered two more shots of Jameson.
Righty-oh. She tiptoed to the chair beside him like a super-normal person and then sat down gently. The chair was leather and made a fart sound.
Nox didn’t laugh, but when he looked at her, she almost saw a smile on his lips. It was riiiiight there, right at the corners.
“That wasn’t what it sounded like,” she uttered, mortified.
Nox leaned over, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed her. She didn’t know whether to run, slap him for thinking she really farted the first thirty seconds of real time spent with him, or barf because this was the most humiliating moment of her life.
“What are you?” he asked as the bartender set the pair of shots between them, right on top of an unfolded map of Foxburg and the surrounding mountains.
“A person,” she gritted out.
“Wrong answer. A, it’s a boldface lie. I can hear it in your voice. Two, your eyes were bright fuckin’ gold last night when those idiots had you pinned in the grocery store, and C, you smell like fur. That rules out hedgehog, sea creature, and flight shifter.”
“Wait, are there sea creatures? Like…are there octopus shifters just swimming around, holding their breath and then turning back into humans? Or are you talking about mermaids? That would be really cool if there were mermaids.”
Nox’s eyes narrowed to crystal blue slits. “You talk a lot.”
Well, that took her back. “No, I don’t actually. I ramble sometimes, but mostly I’m quiet.” Why was she a blabbermouth around him?
“No to mermaids and octopussies—”
“I don’t think that’s the plural for Octopuses. Octopi?”
“Not a bear because you’re submissive as fuck, and even the most submissive bears in Damon’s mountains feel way heavier than you.”
Nevada flinched and gasped. “You’re from Damon’s Mountains?”
A soft rumbling sound emanated from him, and Nox handed her a shot. “Drink.”
She stared down at the fragrant liquor in the small glass. “It’s just…I’m not a very good drinker and I tend to—”
“Drink.”
“Okay.” Nevada jumped slightly when he tinked his glass against hers, and then she did what he did, bumped the bottom of the shot glass on the shiny bar top before she held her nose and drank the liquor down. It was gross, and it felt like she’d swallowed one of those hot pokers Dad used to stir up the fire in their fancy grand hearth in her childhood home. “I touched a hot poker once,” she choked out. She showed him the pink scar across the inside of her thumb.
“So, brains aren’t your gig then,” Nox said rudely.
“Oh, and you never did anything silly when you were a kid?”
“Never.” His voice rang with false notes though, and he smiled like he didn’t even care that he was obviously fibbing. “What’s your name? In my head, I’ve been calling you Helpless Heather.”
What a jerk. “Well I’ve been calling you Weirdo with a Beardo.” She swallowed down a gasp at her rudeness.
Nox bellowed a single, echoing laugh, just like she’d done earlier, and people turned to stare at them. Not good. Nevada shook her leg in quick succession and plucked at a loose thread on her cardigan. Today was cold, and it would snow soon, so she’d dressed in her warmest fleece leggings, knee-high boots, a red tank top and the thick gray cardigan that trailed down below her backside.
“Nevada.”
“Is a pretty state,” Nox muttered, giving a two-fingered wave to the bartender for more shots.
“No. I mean, yes, it is. But Nevada is my name. Nevada Foxburg.”
“You’re named after the town?” Nox asked, arcing a questioning gaze to her. His eyes were a pretty color of blue. Like the ocean. But not on a bad beach where the water was murky. His eyes were like the Hawaii ocean.
“Actually, the town is kind of named after me. Or not me, but my family. We’ve been here for generations.” She shrugged up one shoulder. “We never leave.”
“Hmm.” The noise came out a soft rumble. “Interesting.”
“I don’t really like whiskey,” she whispered as the bartender set down another pair of drinks in front of them.
“No shit,” Nox whispered back, pushing her shot closer to her. “I could tell from the awful face you made when you took the last one. You drank that one. You need to shoot this one.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Yep. Open that throat up and gulp it.”
“It’s too much to take.”
“Woman, half the shit you say I want to turn into something perverted. It’s not too much for you, Nevada Foxburg.” His grin turned wicked. “I know you can take all of it.”
He was talking about a dick. Right? This was a dick joke? Or…flirting? She couldn’t tell. This guy kept her on her toes and confused, but she kind of liked it. She kind of liked not knowing where the conversation would go with him.
She took the shot with him and felt four percent proud of herself for at least drinking it faster than last time. All Nox said was, “Needs improvement,” before he ordered a plate of loaded nachos. “We’re sharing,” he announced gruffly.
“Oh, no thank you. I’m watching what I eat.”
Nox dragged his gaze down her body, then back up to her eyes. “Whyyyy?” he drawled.
“Well, because…” Was he messing with her? She was fifty pounds overweight, and he was some kind of bodybuilder shifter. “Well, isn’t it obvious?”
“You have a grabbable ass, perfect ten tits, and an hourglass shape. And I see those sexy calves under those boots. You’re totally fuckable. I’d let you ride me any day, nachos or no. Besides, this place is highfalutin. It’s probably non-seasoned, oven-baked pita chips and goat cheese, or some such bullshittery.”
A tiny helpless sound escaped her lips. “Did you just call me fff…”
“Fuckable? Yes, I did. Look in the mirror every once in a while, woman. We’re sharing nachos because no one wants a date who takes a sip of water and claims to be full. Lose weight if you want, I don’t care. But to me? You look hot. I’d stick it in you.”
“You say the crudest things. But that’s also somehow the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Yeah? That’s pretty fuckin’ sad.”