“Don’t try fishing for compliments with me,” I told her. “I only bite for bigger bait.”

She lowered her eyes at me. “What exactly does that mean, Mr. Carter?”

I put my drink down, looked into those blue eyes and told her.

“I know what you are. You’re a little girl hiding in a woman’s body. You use those curves you’ve got to hide your pigtails, because some day, somebody might look right by them and see that you’re all tease and taunt… and that deep down you’re still that little girl who’s terrified someone’s gonna figure out that you don’t really know what you’re doing. And God forbid you should ever meet someone who’s not distracted by all that smarmy sexpot act you put out and take the effort to really look, and yeah, I mean really look deep, because that means you might actually have to admit it. And the thought of that scares you more than just about anything else. Yeah, I know what you are. I know what you are because I’m the exact same thing. Just with different plumming. And there’s already one too many of me in my life and I really don’t need another one.”

Then, I picked up my drink and finished it, put it back down and signalled the bartender for another. He filled it up and went on his way back down the bar, pretending not to listen. Meanwhile, I was still staring at those blue eyes, seeing if I could even make a dent in those perfect white cheeks of hers, but there wasn’t even a hint of a blush.

“Why, Mr. Carter,” she said. “I never knew you were a man of so many words.”

“Many words and few actions,” I told her, picking up my drink. “We’re two of a kind.”