"Um . . . she's not my friend; she's my cousin." She shifted her eyes from Van to Tom. "And she needs you to, like, answer a question first."
"Me?"
The waitress nodded at Tom, her cheeks flushing. "Yeah. She's, like, um, well . . . she needs to know your favorite book."
Without skipping a beat, Tom asked, "Fiction or nonfiction?"
This question proved a bumpy road for Eve Marie, who froze, staring blankly at Tom.
"Which one," he asked slowly, "do you think she wants to know?"
Eve Marie chewed once, then held up a single finger and hurried away. Tom watched her beeline to the feisty blonde (yes!), who was taking an order across the dining room. Tapping her cousin on the shoulder, Eve Marie cupped her hands around the blonde's ear for a moment, then leaned back expectantly. A second later, she returned to Tom.
"Fiction. Ellie said fiction."
"Now we're getting somewhere."
Tom chuckled softly, nodding at Eve Marie, who sighed happily, like she'd finally done something right.
"My favorite book of fiction. Hmm . . ."
Glancing around Eve Marie, who was twirling a long strand of teased hair around her index finger as she chewed her gum and eye-fucked Van, Tom looked across the dining room at-what had Eve Marie called her? Ellie?-Ellie, who still had her back to him, writing on her pad. Pocketing the pad, she held out her hand and collected the menus.
When she turned around, her eyes slammed into his, almost like she'd known he was staring at her all along. With the menus pressed against her chest, she stared back at him for a long moment, her posture straight, her blue eyes keen and bright. When her lips wobbled just a little, he realized she was trying not to smile, and he suddenly felt his own lips lift into a grin. But that broke the spell they were under, and she dropped his eyes quickly, heading for the kitchen and disappearing behind the swinging door without a second glance.
He didn't realize he was holding his breath until his lungs started to burn and he exhaled with a soft puff.
"Uh, Tom?" asked Van in a low voice, utterly captivated by gum-snapping, eye-fucking Eve Marie. "A book. Name a book. For the love of God, please name a book."
Ellie seemed brighter than average-she was quick with numbers and interested in books-but she looked young too, which meant she'd be impressionable. He considered lying. He thought about saying A Clockwork Orange (to seem edgy), or The Catcher in the Rye (to seem deep). But in the end, something about those clear, blue, unsmiling eyes made him feel ashamed of even considering deception, and he heard "The Swiss Family Robinson" fall from his lips instead.
Eve Marie winked at Van before looking down at Tom with glistening lips and a sexy smile. "Hmm?"
"Tell her my favorite novel is The Swiss Family Robinson, and ask her the name of her favorite poet."
"Uh . . .," Eve Marie stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay. Be right back."
She sauntered away toward the kitchen, and Van adjusted his pants, grimacing. "Fuck, she's hot. How many hours is it until tonight?"
Tom looked at his watch. "About ten. But I assume you're buying her dinner first, so more like ten and a half."
"Fuck," Van muttered again. "Dinner better buy some tail."
On cue, Kenny Rogers started crooning "Lady" overhead, the lyrics Lady, I'm your knight in shining armor and I love you an ironic follow-up to Van's comment.
"That's real nice."
Though, judging from Eve Marie's come-hither glances, he doubted Van would have much trouble securing that tail. Him, on the other hand? He wasn't so sure. Ellie didn't look like a girl who put out as easily. Her appearance wasn't contrived to seek attention-it didn't appear that she wore makeup, and she kept her hair in a plain, tidy ponytail-and yet she was so naturally beautiful, every pair of male eyes in the room naturally gravitated toward her.
It felt like forever waiting for Eve Marie to return.
"So?" asked Tom, his anxious heart stuttering, hoping the little spitfire liked adventure fiction as much as he did.
"Elizabeth Burnett Browning," said Eve Marie.
"Barrett," he said reflexively.
"Huh?"
"Elizabeth Barrett Browning," said Tom.
"That's what I said."
"No, you said-"
"So, we good?" interrupted Van, leaning across the table to give Tom a look that begged him to shut the fuck up and stop arguing with the waitress he was aching to bang.
"Um, no," said Eve Marie, wrinkling her nose. "Now she needs to know your favorite nonfiction book too."
"What the actual fuck?" exclaimed Van. "Is she a waitress or an English professor?"
Eve Marie turned away from Tom to look at Van with wide, innocent eyes. "A waitress. But she goes to college. At Colorado Mountain College over in Edwards."
"Wow," said Van sarcastically. "Colorado Mountain College! You don't say!"
"I do say," said Eve Marie earnestly. "She saves up her tips every month to pay for it. She's, like, supersmart."
"What does she study?" asked Tom, kicking Van under the table so he'd stop being an asshole.
"Bookkeeping," said Eve Marie. "Because math is a . . . a . . . oh, I remember! A universal language." Tom smiled at her, forcing himself not to give her a round of applause since she'd worked so hard for the answer. "But she also reads a lot of books. Ellie's, like, always reading books. Since as long as I've known her, and that's forever because I'm three years younger. It's, like, her favorite thing to do."
"Too bad partying isn't her favorite," said Van under his breath.
"Nope. That's my favorite," said Eve Marie, arching her back provocatively as she slid her gaze to Van.
Van chuckled, nodding at her with appreciation before glancing at his friend. "So, Tom, what's your all-time favorite nonfiction tome, huh?"
Tom glanced at the kitchen door, wishing Ellie would come out for a second. He'd like to look into her eyes again. He'd like to see her reaction as he answered The Joy of Sex or A Moveable Feast or . . .
He looked up at Eve Marie and grinned.
"Tell her if she wants to know my favorite nonfiction book, she has to be my date tonight."
Chapter 2
Eleanora didn't know what had prompted her to play the What's Your Favorite Book? game with the man at Auntie Rose's this morning, but as she and Evie walked to the Hotel Jerome at seven thirty, she had to admit that she was looking forward to this evening a lot more than the others set up by her cousin.
The Swiss Family Robinson, while not Eleanora's favorite book, was a good, honest choice, and she was curious about why he loved it. She also appreciated that he'd volleyed back, asking about her favorite poet, and she'd wondered all afternoon if he had a favorite too. Maybe tonight-instead of awkwardly sipping a club soda and leaving after an hour-she'd actually have a date worth talking to. Now wouldn't that be a nice turn of events?
Evie pushed through the revolving door of the hotel and walked confidently to the bar. She was familiar with all the local hotel bars, a fact that made Eleanora grimace, but she couldn't fault her cousin either. Eleanora had chosen an education as her way of bettering her life; Evie was on the fast track to love, albeit via lots and lots of quasi-anonymous sex.
"Evie," she said, placing her hand on her cousin's shoulder and making her turn around. "You don't have to sleep with him."
Evie shrugged her older cousin's hand away. "Ellie, I'm not smart like you."
Undeterred, Eleanora threaded her fingers through Evie's thick, dark hair, gently tucking a strand behind her ear. "You're sweet. And young. I worry about you."
"You're young, too," Evie said, her tone holding a reminder. Whenever Eleanora hinted about Evie's promiscuous ways, Evie countered that her cousin just didn't know how to have fun. She tilted her head to the side, grinning at Eleanora, her face bright and fearless. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."
Then she strode into the hotel bar, leaving Eleanora to stand in the doorway on her own for a moment. The two men who'd been sitting together at Auntie Rose's several hours earlier were settled into a booth at the back, and rose as Evie approached.
The brunet, a man named Van, had already been claimed by Evie, so Eleanora looked more closely at her own date: he had a mop of sandy-blond hair and a neat mustache and wore a white button-down shirt with a tan corduroy blazer. He glanced over Evie's head and caught sight of Eleanora, a pleased smile taking over the entire real estate of his face. It was a good smile-confident and kind, interested and warm, flirtatious without being grabby. And beautiful, she thought, unable to look away from him as she made her way closer. So very, very beautiful.