Page 6 of Wine & Dine

“It’s Dolores.”

I stare at her. What?

“My name. It’s Dolores, not Dorothy.”

“Okay, well, either way, this isn’t Kansas and—”

“I’m from Georgia, not Kansas.” Her hands stop stroking her hips, fists forming on each one and then one juts out. Her eyes narrow, and I forgot where I was going by mentioning Kansas. She’s a little sassy, and my body reacts to the fire in her. My dick wants in on some action. Down boy. We already had what we shouldn’t have had last night. I shake my head, refusing to let myself think about how I gave in to Alicia Graystone of all people.

“What’s the difference?” I ask, knowing full well the distinction between the two states as I’m from a small town about halfway between Kansas and Georgia.

“Purple mountains majesty, not amber waves of grain,” she snarks. I stare at her another moment, and then I can’t help myself. I laugh. A good belly roll, bend at the waist, hands on my knees laugh. Standing there in her prissy glare, hands on hips, with her Southern drawl, she tried to school me. The laughter is surprisingly refreshing.

“Are you laughing at me?” she bites again. Her teeth clench as she speaks, and I wonder—when I shouldn’t—if she’d bite me. My dick jolts again, and I’m about to have an issue in my thin workout shorts.

“No, ma’am.” Her expression sours as I pull up my expired Southern drawl. “I’d have to have a heart to laugh at you,” I explain, still chuckling. “And I don’t.”

She blinks as her forehead furrows. “Don’t have a heart?”

My laughter lowers to a dying huff, and I swipe at a tear. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.

“Well, then nice to meet you, Tin Man.” She extends a hand, standing too formal for someone who wrestled with my dog in the sand and then pressed against me.

It takes me a moment to make the connection with what she said.

Tin Man. Dorothy. Ah, yes, Kansas, but no Wizard here.

“You’re pretty funny, Dolores,” I say, emphasizing her name as my hands slip into the pockets of my shorts, hoping to disguise what she’s done to me.

Her lips twist. “Hilarious,” she whispers, before lowering her unclasped hand and brushing past me, heading toward the condo building. “See ya around, Tin Man.”

My eyes follow her retreat. The sway of her ass in skinny jeans. The hourglass shape of her hips narrowing at her waist. The muscle in her back with her hair piled on her head. I lick my lips.

Well. Huh. That was interesting.