ChapterOne
Dylan stared at the man sitting next to her and, for the first time in her life, considered committing homicide.
While she would never be a shy, retiring flower, she knew how to control her impulses. Especially illegal ones.
But as Todd continued to speak, she gripped her steak knife and fought the urge to stab him with it. Maybe she could maim him a little by jamming into his arm since his hand was currently creeping up her thigh toward her crotch.
"Take your hand off me," she demanded. Her voice wasn't as loud as she would like because her teeth were currently clenched together in anger.
"C'mon, darlin'. This is date number three. We both know what that means."
As his fingers came closer to her private area, she'd had enough. Though it was difficult, Dylan released the steak knife, reached down to grab his wrist, and tried to yank his hand away from her.
Instead of releasing her, he gripped her thigh. Hard.
She gasped in pain and, without thinking it through, grabbed his whiskey and tossed it into his face.
Finally, her voice broke free and she yelled, "Keep your hands off me, you bastard!"
All eyes turned toward them as she got to her feet, the barstool she'd been sitting on crashed to the ground in a clatter of wood and metal.
"You bitch!" he yelled back, grabbing for her wrist.
Dylan did exactly what she'd been dreaming of doing all night. She punched him in the face.
He howled in pain and cupped both hands over his nose as it began to bleed.
"For your information, asshole, three dates doesn't mean you can grab me and expect me to like it," she continued, shaking the pain out of her hand. Damn, she'd never punched someone before. It hurt almost as much as his grip on her thigh had.
"I'm going to press charges," he said, his voice muffled by his hands.
"Fine. I'll press charges, too."
"I didn't do anything to you," he replied, releasing his face long enough to grab a napkin and press it to his nose.
"You tried to stick your hand between my legs after I told you to stop," she shot back. "I'm pretty sure that's considered sexual assault."
"Like you could prove it."
A female voice rang out. "I'd be happy to provide a statement to the police."
Dylan glanced over and saw the bartender standing directly beside them, a smirk on her face.
"I saw what you did and heard her tell you to stop. Not just that, but there are cameras in each corner. I imagine I caught the whole thing on film."
Todd scowled at her, the threatening look ruined by the bloodstained napkin he held to his face.
The man who'd been sitting on the other side of Dylan stepped forward. "I'll be giving my statement as well." He gave Todd a look of disgust.
Todd glared at the man, then at Dylan. "You know what? Forget it. I can't believe I wasted my money on taking you out three times when you obviously don't appreciate it."
"You mean when you refused to let me pay for my own meals each time?" Dylan asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Was that because you wanted me to feel obligated to let you grope me?"
"Fuck you!" Todd yelled.
"Okay, that's it," the bartender said. "You have ten seconds to get your ass out of my place or I'm calling the cops and pressing charges myself."
Todd didn't argue, just grabbed his jacket with one hand and stormed out, his other hand still holding the napkin to his nose.
