"How did you get into this work?"
The Walsh history was the opposite of happy hour. It belonged with campfire horror stories.
"Birth. Let's get some food. I can't remember eating today." I flagged down the waitress to order.
I was aware of all things Lauren in our shadowy booth. Her scent—like sugar and sweetness. Her skin—smooth and tanned, and sprinkled with just a few pea-sized dark brown freckles. Her smile—brighter than the sunrise, with just a bit of smirk. Her sparkle—a f*ing force field I was powerless to resist, though I wasn't sure why I bothered resisting in the first place.
Lauren asked, "You were just born into architecture and structural engineering?"
"Basically."
"So, what?" she laughed. "I can drop my hot messery in your lap, but you're empty-handed? Come on, Matthew."
I turned my attention to the pulled pork sliders and fresh round of drinks when they arrived at our table. "Try one. They're awesome."
Lauren waved a hand. "I'm fine, thanks."
She was on her third round of tequila, and looked as sober as a saint. "Have you eaten yet?"
Lauren squared her shoulders and sent me a firm stare. That expression probably brought most people to heel in an instant; I was halfway there myself. She didn't need to be eight inches taller or bench two-twenty to kick my ass. I drank in the set of her jaw and decided I liked seeing her in control. She was intelligent and quick-witted, and bossy as hell, and I wanted to touch her again.
I also wanted to f* her until she lost her voice from screaming my name, but I'd start with touching.
"No, but—"
"Please. Considering I'm the guy who figures out how to ignore the laws of physics on a daily basis, I'm not in the business of saying no very often, especially not to beautiful women. Drinks and bar food are the least I can do, and my sister would belt me for not taking you somewhere decent like No. 9 Park or XV Beacon."
"You're a little demanding," she laughed while selecting a slider. "And you just rattled off the only two places in Boston with numbers in their name."
Grinning, I rubbed the back of my neck. "There's also 75 Chestnut, and Twenty-First Amendment, and 29 Newbury. And a few others."
Lauren folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. "So you're a savant. This puts things in a new light."
"Something like that, yeah." I raised my beer to her glass. "Not sure I can compete with hot messery, but I'll sure as hell try."
