“Try it again. You might be surprised.”
Lou frowned but lifted the bottle to her lips and drank more. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nope. Still terrible. How do you drink that stuff?”
“Let me see it.” He took the bottle from her outstretched hand and raised it to his own lips. Warm beer sloshed into his mouth. “No wonder, Lou. It’s hot. That’s a lot like drinking warm piss. Hang on and I’ll get some cold ones.” He rose from his chair despite her protests.
“No, Brody. Really. I need to get to bed, anyway.”
He was already returning from the kitchen. “Nuh uh, Lou,” he walked back through the screen door. “Your first taste of beer will not be spoiled by warmth.” He held out a frosty bottle that had steam floating from the open neck. She took it cautiously and raised it to her lips.
She took a full swallow, then hel
d the bottle up, looked at it, and said, “Not nearly as bad as the warm piss.”
Brody chuckled. Then he grew serious. “Why are you drinking beer, Lou?” His silver eyes searched her own.
She halfway shrugged, breaking eye contact with him and looking at the floor. She said quietly, “I heard what you said about my mom earlier. About me not being able to ‘unlive’ her life.”
“And?” he coaxed gently.
“And…you might be right. Just because my mom was all those things doesn’t mean I will be as well.”
“And that means?”
“That I can let my hair down a little. Maybe not be so serious.”
And let me make love to you like I have wanted to do since I first laid eyes on you. Brody’s jeans got tighter and he adjusted his pants. Her next few words were just as potent as cold water being thrown in his lap.
“That does not mean my morals have changed. I still believe the same things I did before.” She glared at him.
“Point taken.”
“Good,” she said.
“Good.”
Lou drained the rest of her beer quickly and rose to stand up. He watched her surprise as she found her world wasn’t quite as steady and she stumbled slightly. She reached for the arm of the chair she had just vacated, but the arm of the chair obviously wasn’t where she remembered it to be, so she weaved again.
Brody wrapped his arms around her waist as she sank against him. He said softly by her ear, “I forgot what a first beer can do to you.” She tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes veiled by suddenly weak eyelids.
“Got one hell of a kick, huh?” she asked, grinning widely.
He laughed at her antics and tweaked her nose with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re awfully cute when you’re tipsy.”
“Tipsy? Is that what you call this?” she asked incredulously.
“Yep,” he replied. “This is tipsy.” He took a long, deep breath. “And this is me putting you to bed. Let’s go.”
“Where? To bed?”
“Don’t I wish,” he responded candidly.
“Huh?” was her only response.
“Never mind.” He turned her around slowly and swatted her on the bottom. She yelped loudly. “Get to bed.”
He opened the screen door for her and she walked slowly through it. She turned back to him. “Are you coming?”
Not tonight. No. But his response was, “Yep. I’m right behind you.”