Mixed Up(6)

"What is your menu?" I steered the conversation back to Raven.

"Awful," she responded. "I think I'll make some calls."

"Why don't you just serve Greek food?"

Her fork clattered to the table.

"It's a good idea," Alexandra picked up where I'd left off...Just like I knew she would. "You are half-Greek, it's good food, and there isn't a place for Greek food on the Keys. Plus, your grandmother would be very happy."

Raven pressed three fingers to her temple and glared at me through her eyelashes. "Have you considered there isn't a Greek restaurant because nobody wants Greek food, Mom? Not to mention I'm not sure that gyros or moussaka would fit too well with my cocktail menu."

"I still don't understand why you have those vulgar cocktail names."

I raised my eyebrow. I knew her bar was called Dirty, but I thought that was just because she could make a mean martini.

Her cheeks flushed light pink. It was barely noticeable through her tanned skin. "Because it's different," she replied. "It gets people talking, and that brings business. Not to mention that three-quarters of my menu is original, and people love that."

"Yes, but what's that new one you just added?"

Ryan grinned. "The Slutwhisperer."




       
         
       
        
I smirked. I couldn't fucking help it.

"It's a horrible word," Alexandra sniffed.

"I'd like a slutwhisperer." Raven and Ryan's grandfather shuffled out onto the porch. "Do you think it would spice up my life?"

"Maybe," Raven answered. "But I'd wait until the reunion   is over. You know Great-Aunt Maria gets rowdy after a drink or two. It's probably best not to give her an opening, Grandpa."

He grumbled something as he settled into his chair. Something that sounded an awful lot like "Fuck that shit," and made Raven choke on her laughter.

"You have a cocktail called The Slutwhisperer?" I asked her, hiding my smile behind my glass of water. "Where did you come up with that?"

She tapped her finger against her temple and reached for her own water. "That's probably one of the best names. Although, some of the others are pretty epic."

"Now, I feel the need to come and find them out."

"Imagine my bar is a church and you're a demon," she said. "I'll be holding the matches."

"She isn't kidding," Ryan muttered.

"Do you still do that screwdriver twist one?" Their grandpa asked.

"Reg," Alexandra groaned.

"You know the one," he continued, oblivious to her discomfort. "With the orange juice."

Raven cleared her throat and looked down at the table. "You mean the Dirty Screw, Grandpa."

"Yes!" He thumped the table with his fist. "I'm coming for breakfast. I need a Dirty Screw."

"What the hell is a Dirty Screw?" I looked at Raven.

She glanced over at her mom, biting the inside of her cheek and fighting a smile. "Exactly what it sounds like."

"If I order one, how happy will it make me?"

"Not very. I'll probably throw it over you."

"I'll take my chances."

"Fool."





***





I knew I was making a mistake. After what Raven said last night at dinner, I had the strongest urge to find out what her cocktail menu was. With names like Dirty Screw and The Slutwhisperer, what other gems did she have hidden on there?

Shit, what gems were hidden inside her apparently filthy mind?

I had no place to be thinking that. She was Ryan's sister and the bane of my goddamn existence. I didn't give a shit what was inside her head or how she came up with a filthy cocktail menu.

I was going to believe that she'd spent stupid amounts of time on the Internet coming up with those kinds of names. Seeing her in that damn short dress yesterday had already affected me enough-not to mention the fact that she'd changed since I last saw her. 

I didn't know people could change so much in only three years, but Raven Archer had. She was no longer post-grad, trying to seriously figure out what she wanted to do with her life, uncertain and serving burgers to people to make money.

She was grown-up, in more ways than just her age. She was even hotter-headed than she was back then. She seemed stronger and more stubborn, and her tongue was so sharp I probably had scars from how quickly she cut me with her words.

She was taller and fucking curvier, too.

Her lips were fuller. Her eyes were brighter. And the general air that hung about her, that hint of sass and sexiness, the very same thing that made me insult her whenever I opened my mouth almost made me want her, too.