Isn't She Lovely (Redemption 0.5)(17)

Steven flexes his inked-up arms ever so not-subtly. “He doesn’t have to know.”

She takes a sip of beer, licking some of the foam off her lips, and now they’re shiny and beer-flavored and I’m inexplicably hot as hell.

“Actually, he would know,” Stephanie says, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper. “Seeing as he’s sitting right here.”

I probably could have played it off if I wasn’t eating the nachos five chips at a time in an effort to keep from looking interested in this girl’s love life.

But as it is, I am stuffing my face, and her casual declaration catches me by surprise. A little chip breaks off awkwardly and lodges itself somewhere in the back of my throat. I down half the beer before the tickling sensation subsides.

They’re both staring at me, Steven in surprised irritation and Stephanie in serene innocence.

I narrow my eyes slightly at her. You. Will. Pay.

She shrugs.

It’s either play along or deal with Steven hitting on her. Since the second option sucks, I find myself giving him a tepid smile. “Sorry, man,” I say. “The lady’s taken.”

He hitches his thumb toward the bar. “But you said she wasn’t your girl.”

Stephanie’s palms slam down on the table as she half rises out of her chair, giving me a look of death.

“I knew it,” she hisses. “You’re ashamed of me, Ethan Price. Because I don’t wear pearls and can’t afford Chanel, and can’t ride dressage.…”

I involuntarily lean back in my chair trying to escape the scorned non-girlfriend on steroids.

And what the f*ck is dressage?

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” She’s still going. “I knew those lavender bath bubbles weren’t for your ‘special relaxation time.’ You’ve been screwing someone else!”

“Dude,” Steven says quietly. “Lavender bath bubbles?”

I look up at him in desperation, and we’re suddenly on the same side. “You want her?”

“Hell, no, dude. But you better talk her down before she scares off the other customers.”

Steven gets back behind the bar in double time, and Stephanie slowly lowers herself back into the chair.

I stare at her in wonder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m starting to get why your ex is an ex. You’re a nightmare.”

She gives me a cheeky smile. “I know, right? Acting’s never been my passion, but it’s always been fun.”

I shake my head and shove the nachos in her direction. “Whatever. Just leave me out of your little charade next time. I thought you were going to cut my balls off.”

She’s gone perfectly still, her eyes fixed on me without really seeing me.

“Are you having another episode?” I whisper, leaning forward.

“A charade,” she says, getting a crazed look in her eyes. “That’s brilliant.”

I take another sip of beer. “Yeah, yeah, your little performance saved you from a date with a slimy bartender, I get it.”

“No, for the project,” she says, shoving away her glass and plate and reaching for her backpack.

I watch as her hand scrambles for several seconds before coming up with a pen. She’s writing at warp speed, not even glancing up at me, so I take the opportunity to eat more nachos. Smaller bites this time, in case she decides to tell the entire bar that she’s pregnant with my demon baby.

Finally she looks up with a beaming smile, and for a second she actually looks pretty instead of totally scary.

She holds up her notebook for me to read, and then her smile slips a little when I don’t respond.

“Help me out here,” I say, squinting at her messy scribbles.

She taps a black fingernail at the top of the page where she’s written PYGMALION in big block letters. “You see?”

I finish my beer and reach for hers. “Do I look like I see?”

Ah, there’s that familiar scowl. “Did your parents care nothing for the performing arts?” she asks.

“Goth, just tell me what you’re so manic about.”

She sets the notebook down and pulls the nachos toward her, scooping up more than her fair share of the guacamole. “So Pygmalion goes way back to ancient Greece—”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I mutter. “Give me the short version, I’m begging you.”

“There’s this guy, that’s Pygmalion. And he’s a sculptor who, for some reason I forget, isn’t real big on women at the moment—”

“Maybe because a woman loudly announced that he uses lavender bath bubbles.”

She snatches her beer back. “Anyway, so even though he’s off flesh-and-blood chicks for a while, he’s apparently open to creating a statue of a woman. And apparently he’s really good at what he does, because the statue is a total babe, and he falls in love with her. Then, blah blah, some goddess or other grants him a wish, and the statue comes to life.”

Stephanie takes two big sips of beer and gives me a wide smile as though to ?

I don’t.

“So tell me what an ancient dude falling in love with a rock has to do with our project,” I say.

She purses her lips in consideration. “Actually, I think it was ivory, not rock—”