Page 11 of Mr. July

I was cornered as soon as I walked out. “Sorry about your beer.” She pressed up against me, her palm on the wet spot on my chest.

Her touch made my pec constrict. Even my muscles were trying to get away. Her dress was cut so low in the front, the only thing missing from view were the two bull’s eyes.

“Not interested.”

“I find that impossible to believe.”

“Not a smidge.” My jaw got tight. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

She shrugged. “Nice watch…. Nice everything,” she eyed me up and down.

“Not for you honey.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, but the action only made her eyes stick to my popped veins and thick forearms. I rolled my eyes, I was jacked, always tan and very secure in who I was. Even in my T-shirt and jeans, I carried myself well. The flashy watch at my wrist probably was a bad idea. But I never took it off. I haven’t been out in the scene for months but apparently, I still draw women like sugar and honey—do bees.

She pouted. Her kissed off lipstick a stained memory on her lips, her hair was messed up from a man’s hands combing through it. It made me miss having that. Being the one to do it to a woman. She must’ve misread my thoughts and leaned closer.

“Get away from my girl,” the drunken prep-tard warned, coming at me. I caught his fist in my open palm, brought it down and twisted it behind him. He yelped in pain like the little bitch he was. The girl in question gasped, pupils dilating. I smirked, knowing who she was hot for and it wasn’t the rich bitch boy she came with.

“I don’t go for girls who show everyone their religion. That shit should be saved for their own man’s eyes.” With that I let him go, looked down my nose at the wannabe housewife hooker and walked off, feeling her wanting eyes burn a hole in my back. I found my way to Char and Hunter, no longer dancing, they were holed up in a corner, drinks in hand. He was whispering shit into her ear that had her giggling back at him. My eyes narrowed. I’d seen him run that play a million times, never thought I’d witness it being done on Char.

“He’s got crabs.”

“What?” Char’s bright eyes and smiling face, turned to me.

“Caught them at the shore in 2019. Fact.” Hunter was pissed. Face scowling, eyes all dark thunder. “Bro, I warned you. Don’t use your dick moves on my sister.”

“We’re just having fun, relax.” Char put a hand on my forearm. Her nose scrunched when she smelled beer and that girl’s desperation. “What happened to you?”

“Gold-digger and her preppy boy toy. Ready to bounce?”

Just then Hank took the mic from the stage announcing every girl who entered the contest needed to get up there. Char handed Hunter her drink squealing as she rushed away.

“Guess we’re staying.”

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me,” I warned.

“She’s cute. Fun. Guess I needed that.”

“Go look somewhere else.”

“…I want to ask her out.”

“She lives in New York.”

“I have a lot of frequent flyer miles.”

“I bet you do,” I growled, finally facing him. “No.”

“You’re not her father.”

“I’m worse. I’m her twin, been with her since conception. Can’t get tighter than that. Turn your eyes somewhere else, bro. Not on my sister.”

He blew out a breath, stared at me hard.Shit.Was he about to fight me for her?After a few seconds of our stare down he backed off and left to buy another round.

My eyes narrowed to slits at Char on the stage. But lucky for me, Ms. Gold-digger was really hamming it up. She leaned over, wiggled her rack. Then shimmed her hips, lifting one side of her already non-existent hemline higher.

Men groaned and cheered. She showed them their money’s worth and ten minutes later declared the victor.

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