Don’t laugh.
Don’t kiss her.
“Since I don’t know what they charge here for a personalized car service, I used the rates I’ve seen on some cars back in Urbium as a reference. How much more would you like?”
More? She really thinks I want more money. “What in the world would make you think I want you to give me more of some other man’s money?”
“Huh?” Her hands freeze, and her brows wrinkle. “What nonsense have you gotten into your head now?”
Is she really going to keep playing that game with me? I’m so tired of it and all of these theatrics.
She stands there staring at me like I have something growing out of my head, and then her eyes open. Her laughter rings out loud and clear.
“You think…You think…That’s why Creed asked…Oh, this is too funny.” Greer slaps a hand over her mouth. Then starts laughing like a person who’s lost all sense of reason.
Did she ever have any to begin with?
“If my mother heard you…faint…floor clutching her pearls…Rothswyler…oh, is he going to get a kick out of this.” Her eyes start to water as she gasps for breath, laughing in between each one. “Winnie…got to tell Winnie.”
I take a seat on one of her remarkably comfortable barstools and wait for her to compose herself. What in the world is going on in her mind? Has she lost it because of break-up grief?
Could she have really loved that old man?
Gross. It has to be fear of losing his money.
Slowly, she starts to calm down, but the humor doesn’t leave her eyes. “Is there something in the water here that makes men obnoxious in their assumptions?”
Does she really expect me to answer that?
“Creed seems to be completely unaffected by this, so it can’t be genetic…unless…Is Creed biologically your child? I mean, he looks like a clone of yours, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe you have an intelligent, mature brother that she cheated on you with? One could assume that since he’s kind and respectful…while you assume women you don’t know are prostitutes. At least tell me you gave me the respect of thinking I’m a prostitute who uses her brains and wiles to make animpressive living and not a pathetic little girl who lets a man do whatever he wants to her because she doesn’t have a brain in her head?”
“Um…” How could I believe that about her?
“You thought I was a brainless bimbo. Wow.” She turns and walks a few feet away. “Wow. Me, a brainless bimbo.” She whips around. “I don’t know which is more insulting.” Greer locks her gaze with mine. “The brainless part. Because you can clearly see I went to college.”
“To be fair, I didn’t think you were brainless.”
“Well, there is some comfort in that fact. I think you should go.”
Go? No. I need to explain. Apologize. Figure out who this woman really is. “I can explain—”
“Really, you can explain how you treated a woman like you have for weeks? How you were cruel and tried to make her feel small because you made baseless assumptions?”
“They weren’t baseless—” The sharp look she gives me stops the excuse in my throat. “I’m sorry—”
“You know what? I don’t care if you’re sorry. People don’t act like that. Whatever issues you have with women aren’t my problem. I have enough of my own to deal with. I don’t need more from an idiotic man. So, if you’d kindly leave. I have things to do with my night, and hope never to speak to you again.”
No, it can’t go like this. “I really am sorry—”
“You’re talking to a woman who doesn’t care. I have better things to do with my time than handle another boy pretending to be a man. Leave my home. And when you see me, go back to pretending I don’t exist, because to you, I don’t. If you ever knock on my door again, I’ll show you what Rothswyler really does.”
The way she says that, makes it sound like he’s the muscle in an old-time gang. Which can’t be, since that man doesn’t have a visible muscle in his scrawny old body.
But she’s dead serious about me leaving. I place the envelope down on the bar. “I really am sorry.”
She doesn’t waver for a second as I walk out the door. That woman could have been a warrior of old. The unblinking strength impresses me even more.
How could I have been that wrong?
