"Where can I get a chicken fried steak?" he answered my question with one of his own while grinning a little, his nearly black eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Several places, but there's at least one that serves up a pretty good chicken fry and it's a little off the beaten path," I said, appreciating the boyish grin on his face. Days had passed since I'd felt like smiling, but I was foolishly beaming back at Winkler now.
"Good, we'll go there," he said. Gavin appeared beside us, offering to drive.
"I know where we're going," I said, snatching the keys to the Jaguar away from him. He just shrugged and let me have my way. Those words were probably the most I'd spoken to anybody for days. Can vampires get depressed? I sure felt depressed. I'd wondered several times over the past week whether the walking into the sun thing was true and how painful it would be if I did it. Yeah, I was back to the pain thing again.
We all climbed into the Jaguar. Winkler rode shotgun so Gavin was forced into the back seat and it irked him, I could tell. Well, he could drive on the way back. We made our way to I-240 and swung around until we got to the Del City exit, ending up at Don's Alley Restaurant. I know. I used to tease Don all the time about it because we liked to eat there. Unfortunately, it was named after a different Don. "You can get your chicken fry here," I said, pocketing the keys instead of handing them to Gavin, who lifted an eyebrow a little but didn't say anything. I hate giving people directions while they're driving. I'd rather get myself there if I know where I'm going and the driver doesn't.
"Don't you want something to eat?" Winkler grinned at me over his menu.
"No, I ate already and I'm not really hungry. I'll just take a glass of tea," I said. Gavin got black coffee; he said he'd eaten already, too. Winkler ordered the chicken-fried steak, along with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and ranch on his salad. A big dinner roll came with all that and Winkler stared at the enormous pile of food when it came.
"This is enough to feed three ordinary people," he sighed happily, cutting into his steak. "It's really good," he mumbled around his second mouthful.
"I knew you'd like it," I said. I almost added that it had been my husband's favorite but caught myself in time.
Winkler had eyed the pie display on the way in and saved room for a generous wedge of coconut cream. "Man, it was worth coming here just for this," he said. The whole piece was reduced to a few crumbs and the edge of the crust when he declared himself too full to move.
"You want I should carry you?" I teased him a little when he lightly rubbed his flat stomach. Maybe all that typing or programming that he did kept him in shape.
"No, but I do feel like working some of this off. Is there a bar around here?" Winkler was grinning hugely now.
The closest bar that I felt he'd be comfortable in and wouldn't need a leather jacket and a tattoo to get inside was the one I'd gone to the day Ed and Serge had done me in. "Can you follow directions without getting grumpy?" I asked Gavin, handing the car keys over. He looked as if he might have a stroke if he weren't allowed to sit up front.
"I can follow directions. No guarantee on the grumpy part of it," he informed me, snatching the car keys so fast I almost didn't see them leave my hand. The man could crack a joke without even a hint of a smile. I found myself wishing I had control like that.
"I'll settle for what I can get," I said, pointing him toward the southwest part of Oklahoma City.
"You can barely see this from the street," Winkler was looking out the passenger side window as we bounced our way into the parking lot of Tipzy's Bar. They definitely needed to resurface.
"It's not bad inside," I said. "The first time I ever got drunk was inside this bar."
"No kidding. When was that?" Winkler was laughing.
"About a month and a half ago," I said. "And I've sworn off drinking. To that degree, anyway—ever since."
Gavin turned to watch me when I'd said that but didn't comment. We walked inside and I saw that Warren was still there, tending bar. Of course, he wouldn't recognize me now but he'd been nice to me when I was probably looking as bad as I'd ever looked and feeling worse than that, even. He had shoulder-length dark hair, nice green eyes and a beautiful smile, even if it was overshadowed by a larger than necessary nose. It really didn't detract from his looks at all. The first time I'd seen him his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He wore it loose now and a couple of women at the bar were batting their eyelashes at him.
Winkler picked a table in a corner and we sat down. A waitress was on duty and she walked over to take our order. I asked for club soda with lime, Gavin ordered a bloody Mary and Winkler wanted scotch and soda. Winkler walked over to the bar after a bit and struck up a conversation with the two women, who were laughing and talking with him and Warren in no time. Gavin and I were busy watching him, making sure he stayed out of trouble when the door opened and someone else stepped in.
I scented him the moment he walked inside. His smell was similar but not quite as exotic as Gavin's. He zoned in on us right away, walking right over to our table. Unsure of what he wanted, I just stared up at him. He was handsome, though Gavin was more so, and he didn't have an edge about him like Gavin did. Gavin felt dangerous—fairly vibrated with it, in my opinion. If such a thing were possible, that is.
"Little queen, may I buy you a drink?" The man was speaking to me but I had no idea what he meant. I must have frowned up at him, uncertain how to respond when Gavin said a word, and if that word wasn't wrapped in power then I was dreaming. And like I said before, vampires don't dream.
"Leave," Gavin commanded, forcing the man to turn as quickly as he could and walk right out of the bar.
"Gavin, you scared the bejeezus out of him," I admonished as I watched the door slam shut. Gavin's eyes, including what should have been white, were quite dark. It must have been a trick of the light because they cleared when he turned to me and blinked.
"He should not be approaching you," Gavin declared imperiously, sipping his drink.
"I'm driving home," I said, watching him consume the bloody Mary in a matter of seconds.
"Gavin, Lissa, this is Jeri," Winkler brought his date du jour over to the table. They both had fresh drinks in their hands and Winkler pulled an extra chair over so Jeri could sit with us. I wanted to bang my forehead against the table and wondered if Winkler would ever consider trying for a steady girlfriend before deciding it wasn't any of my business. Or, as Don would have said, "None o' your bidness." I missed him. Gavin insisted on driving home after Winkler and Jeri finished their drinks, and since he'd only had two drinks, I didn't argue. Jeri was duly impressed with the house in Nichols Hills as we drove through the gate.