The man answered for me. “Everything is fine. Can I get a--.”
I interrupted him. “Just the check, please. And a to-go box for my dessert. I’m ready to head out.”
She peeked back over at the guy before patting my shoulder. “I’ll get right on it. You hold tight.”
Thank fuck.“Thank you. It’s much appreciated.”
“You can just put her stuff on my tab, Ramsey,” the man said.
Jesus Christ, I wanted to punch him in the throat. “That isn’t necessary. I’ve got my own money, so I’ll pay my own bill.”
“Look, I insist,” the man said as he cocked to one side and pulled out his wallet, “it’s the least I can do for--.”
“No,” I said plainly.
The man tossed his wallet onto the tabletop. “You seem nice, so I’ll be honest: all I’m saying is that I wanna treat you to something. You look like you haven’t been treated to anything in a while, and that’s all I wanna do. Promise.”
I locked eyes with him as I reached into my bra. I pulled out my cash and fiddled with a few twenties before handing it to the waitress. I didn’t have the energy to put up with that man a second longer. If I wasn’t going to find a shred of peace in the bar, then I’d go back to the clubhouse and get it there.
“Keep the change,” I said as I finally turned to face the waitress, “and the slice of cake. I’ll be back around soon, and I can try it then.”
“You want me to cork your bottle of wine so you can take it with you?” she asked.
The man heaved a heavy sigh as I shook my head. “You take it. You look like you could use a drink just about as much as me.”
She held up the money before placing it in her apron. “Thanks for the tip.”
I nodded before I turned toward the man. “When a woman says ‘no,’ that’s exactly what she means. No matter your intentions, the fact that you ignored mine negates every good thing you wanted to try and do here. Learn the lesson and remember that for next time.”
I’d had enough food and wine for one day, anyway. The last thing I needed was to be stumbling drunk in a bar with a man who didn’t want to stop breathing down the back of my neck. I heard him mumble something beneath his breath, but I didn’t catch what it was. And I didn’t care, either.
All I cared about was getting back home.
Even if I didn’t know where home was any longer.
I picked up my book and caught a side exit out of the corner of my eye. Perfect. A quick getaway back to Bury and the car. I wasted no time in walking over to the door and shoving my arm into it. I spilled out into the alleyway, turning left to head back toward the parking lot. With every step I took, my relief became greater. Any distance put between me and that asshole who didn’t understand the English language was a win in my book. It was the kind of distance I should have placed between me and Gordon, instead of succumbing to whatever book fetish had told me it was possible for someone like him to ever want someone like me.
Gordon always looked out for number one.
For himself.
And damned be the consequences if anyone else got caught up in his shit.
“Good ridd—AH!”
My head fell back before my body stumbled on its feet. A hand clapped over my mouth before my face went soaring toward the brick wall, and had it not been for a last-minute turn of my cheek, I would have absolutely broken my nose. Panic gripped my throat. Something shoved the back of my head, sending my forehead banging into the brick. And as bile crept up the back of my throat, I felt my book tumble from my hand.
Before a set of shoes attached to a khaki-laced leg crushed it into the muddy waters at my feet.
“So, this is what I get for being nice to the bookworm, huh? Embarrassed in front of everyone for being nice?”
I raked my fingernails up and down the brick, trying my best to find leverage.
“Well,” the man hissed as he spun me around, “maybe you’ll think twice before being such a grade-A bitch.”
I spat in the man’s face. Hell, I didn’t even have to look at his face to know who the hell it was. The gray at his temples flashed in the sunlight as his collared shirt sat cockeyed on his shoulders. I fought against him, batting his hands away and doing my best to cry out for help. But, every time I parted my lips, his hand clamped around them.
Keeping me silent as his hand gripped my shirt.
