It’s obvious she’s not gonna agree to this. Maybe I have been a bit of an asshole to her. Could Jackie have a point? Do I need to “woo” Prudence into my bed? And more important, am I willing to invest that kind of time and energy? These are questions I can’t answer right this second. Not while she’s close enough to touch. No. I need a clear head when pondering life’s toughest questions.
She leans closer. I do my best not to check out her chest again because her blue eyes are already sparkling with fury.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous. That alone makes me want to put in the effort it’ll take.
“I will not go out with a man who insults me at every turn.”
“Fair enough.” Attempting to act casual, I sit in my chair and pick up a bill from somewhere. I’m not actually looking at the paper in my hand—my peripheral vision is on her.
She pulls “That’s it? You’re not going to try harder?”
I sigh and recline in my chair. Her friend is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Something tells me she’s used to this shit with Prudence.
“You don’t want to eat steak with me.” I shrug. “I get it. Plenty of other fish in the sea, sweetheart.”
Before you say anything, yes, I know that was the opposite of “wooing”. Sometimes a tiger can’t change his stripes. To be honest, I’m a tad butt hurt by her hostility toward me. Once I get over that, perhaps I’ll revisit the whole wooing thing.
Her mouth is opening and closing like she can’t believe what I just said. Shit. That was nothin’ compared to the bullshit I spew. Still, she’s taken aback, and I’m okay with that.
Her friend, Laura, reaches out and grabs Prudence’s arm. “Let’s go before you blow this, Pru.”
“Fine.” Prudence sighs.
The word makes me want to laugh, but I’d better not.
Prudence exits my office first, leaving the blonde behind. I watch her walk past my window and out toward the shop. Glancing up at Laura, I can tell she wants to say something, so I wait.
“Give her some time. She’s only been divorced eight months.”
“Divorced?”
“Yeah.” She moves closer and whispers, “He was a real piece of shit.”
“Ah.” I nod. She needs time. And I’ve got an abundance of that.
“Also, what’s the story with the guy who walked us back here?”
“Brett?” I smirk. “Why?”
She shrugs. “He’s kinda hot.”
“He said the same about you.”
“Really?” She smirks. “Good to know.”
She turns to leave.
“He’s single, but he’s a slut.”
Patting the doorframe, she smiles. “Me too.”
“Sounds like a match made in fucking heaven.”
She snickers. Glancing back, she adds, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. Maybe stop into the store now and then.”
I shrug.
“I wouldn’t bother on Mondays and Thursdays, though. Her days off.”
