“Is this why we’re here?” He tilts his head to the table.
I glare at him, annoyed that he’s here and annoyed at myself for mentioning my plans.
“I don’t know whyyou’rehere,” I toss back. I didn’t invite him to join me, but after our meeting, he decided to come along when I told him I was getting a bite to eat. I could tell he didn’t believe me. He knows I prefer to cook my meals, and on the occasions when I do eat out, I take it to go. My plans piqued his interest, and I’m kicking myself for not playing it better, but this is what she’s done to me. She’s made me stupid, and that I can’t have.
“Put their bill on his tab, but don’t tell them.” Dax winks at the waitress, and she blushes. “You’re doing a great job,” Dax whispers, and the woman is now as bright as a tomato.
Dax discreetly points to the group across from us. They now have their heads together while they talk. When they pull away, the scared and brave ones look at me, but she never does. She looks down at that broken phone instead. I see her huff and shove the phone in her purse.
“Which one?” Dax asks, but I don’t answer. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess.” He rubs his hands together, and his voice has a playfulness that he only reserves for the women he flirts with.
“What?” I ask, pretending not to know what he’s talking about.
“Don’t be stupid,” he chastises. “It’s not the one with the big head of hair. She’s looked this way a bunch of times, and you haven’t looked her way once.” He picks up his bourbon and sips. “The one in the middle has glared at you a few times. I think she’d punch you if she could, and you’re unbothered.”
I don’t answer, and he goes quiet. I give nothing away in my expression. I’ve always been an excellent poker player, but Dax is better.
“But that fine ass one with the freshly done hairis—”
My eyes harden, and he stops speaking. It’s a challenge, but I don’t say a word.
“She’s fine,” he continues. “And since I’m sure you don’t know, she got a silk press.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
Dax laughs at me.
“Oh, Jesus.” He rubs a hand over his face. “We’ll come back to that later, but she’s downright beautiful.” He stops talking. I’m sure he’s checking for my reaction to his comments, but I remain stoic. “And she’s my type, too. I bet she has a fat ass. I already know I like her tits.”
My cheek flinches.
He notices, and his smile deepens. He finally stops staring at me and looks across the room. “The kind of tits I can bury my face in.”
My jaw clenches. I’d rip out his fucking face before I let that happen.
“Look at the way she’s drinking that cocktail. Do you see the way she maneuvers that straw with her tongue? I wonder what her throat—”
I slam my hand on the table so hard that the dishware shakes, but Dax doesn’t flinch. He licks his lips while he stares across the room. I hit the table again. Slowly, he looks away from them.
“I must say, Rip, I’m surprised … and not much surprises me. Not ever.” The teasing is gone now. He’s back to business, and I want to punch myself for falling into his trap again.
“Surprised at what?” I ground out.
“I thought you had a different type.” He arches an eyebrow. “She’s Black.”
“Really?” I ask, pretending to be shocked. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He grins. “And she just happens to be the sheriff’s daughter.”
Of course, he would know that. We know all the players in town and their families, but we never involve families unless it’s necessary, and it hasn’t been.
“I know you’re not one to seek trouble. That’s what I like about you.” He picks up his glass and looks at me. “Then again, you’ve always taken what you want, and you never, ever back down from a challenge. This is gonna be interesting. I almost feel bad for Sheriff Rose, but not quite.”
I don’t respond, but he knows I won’t. My personal life is my personal life. Regardless, he doesn’t back off.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks. “There are other women and less complicated situations.”
“But I don’t want them,” I admit.
