Re: The Bar: Cat & Isaiah
"Oh, you'd be amazed with what they can come up with. They'll even claim they saw the bar rocking, which will spawn a delicious rumor about the place secretly being on hidden wheels." She winked, and it was obvious she was accustomed to banter. Banter? It was just another jump from a rooftop, and she was good at it. To get to the real woman? You had to scratch beneath that banter, and Cat wasn't exactly willing to let any nails come near her, not these days.
Cat wasn't interested in begging, which she would've told him in more clear terms, but he didn't ask, and she just let the comment go with a lingering grin on those lush lips. And she should be picking him apart, unraveling him, learning his secrets. But Cat knew that some cons were better long. She'd known Steve for a lifetime, before she'd ever tried to figure him out. Alright, so Doctor Bootylicious here? He was a more pressing concern, especially with the arrival of Archibald Black in town. But there was time. There was always time, and that was a lesson Matt could do with learning. "Am I from the city? Is it that obvious?" She had no accent from Jersey, but all the plaid in the world couldn't make a barn cat out of the city feline.
She inclined her head when he asked if the invitation would be open another time, and she didn't try to make him stay. She just took his glass, and she grabbed for her cloth. "On the house," she said of the drink, with a smile that said he was welcome back anytime. And just then? The door opened, and five of the men working the farm past the pumphouse walked in. Loud and sweaty and wanting beer and the pool table, and Cat's attention swiveled. "The regular? Coming right up, boys."
She gave Doctor Bootylicious a farewell wink, and then she went about getting the men their pitcher.