Page 27 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Checking on the well-being of my residents isveryimportant to me.”

He licks his lips and smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets and casually leaning back on his heels. The action only fuelingmy hatred for this elf and diminishing my dwindling patience with his arrogance.

“Oh, I bet her well-being is important to you.”

Chapter 9 – Lottie

Out of all the things going on right now that require my attention, like the skeevy man who was just hitting on me, the thing that grabs my interest is the mayor title he used towards Hunter. In our previous conversations, he and his sister failed to mention that little tidbit of information. It would have been nice to know I’m renting the mayor’s cabin and hanging out with his sister.

Hunter turns his attention to me and ignores the rude man between us.

“Is this man bothering you?”

I could tell Hunter was an attractive man last night on my front porch—or ratherhisfront porch—but now, in the full clear light of day without the evening shadows hiding his features, I can see he is a heartthrob. Tall, well-built, with a strong jawline and thick black hair that looks soft even in its smooth styling. I see now why Ginger warned me about his baby blues. They are mesmerizing. Like two ice-blue diamonds adrift in a dark sea beckoning me.

It's not only his eyes that mesmerize me, but his deep and low voice, which reverberates through my bones and echoes in my chest. Something about it makes my toes curl when I hear him speak, as if his voice is comprised of the most perfectly in-tune note ever to be played. It’s seductive, and the strange pull I felt towards him when we first met tugs once again at my chest, urging me towards him.

However, the deep scowl on his face and his obvious rising anger convey less-than-pleasant emotions on his part. I can’t tell if he’s mad at the man for being pervy or at me for taking time out of his busy day Mayoring.

I didn’t ask you to come to my rescue, Mr. Mayor. I was doing just fine and was just about to tell him off when you showed up and interrupted my well-scripted refusal.

The words die in my throat under his scrutiny, and every ounce of bravado and eloquence flies right out the door with that well-crafted refusal.

“Oh, um, well. . .”

The flirtatious man reaches out an arm and wraps it around my shoulders. I instantly cringe and try to pull away but don’t get far. His arm is like a vice and oddly cold. A strange man hasn’t dared to touch me in years, and for a moment, I wish Luna were here to pry his hand off me and break his fingers.

“Of course not, we’re just having a friendly chat. Getting to know each other. Might even get some dinner together later tonight.”

The scowl on my face must be deep because Hunter's expression grows harder and angrier seeing it. He reaches out and, with a strong hand, grabs the guy’s shirt collar and pulls just hard enough to force him to remove his arm from my shoulders or risk knocking me over. I take the opportunity to step a healthy distance away out of reach.

Hunter drops his grip on the man once he’s repositioned himself, placing his bulky body between us. The man now too far away to try to touch me again. Interesting. That’s the type of maneuver I would expect Luna to pull. She said she knew peoplein this town. Perhaps that meant more than just Ginger? Was Hunter, at one point, a bodyguard as well?

That sounds like an interesting story—a bodyguard turned Mayor— it would make a good movie. They could get Henry Cavill to play Hunter.

“Hey, easy on the threads, man. No need to ruin the Gucci.”

I poke my head around Hunter's massive body, taking in the man’s shirt that he’s smoothing down with one hand, and I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed before. Usually, I’m really good at spotting brand labels. Only weeks away from my former lifestyle, and I’m already forgetting it.

Hunter ignores the man’s protests and scowls at him. Not giving two shits about his precious Gucci. “Don’t touch people who obviously don’t want to be touched,” he practically bellows, standing his ground and still blocking me like any bodyguard I’d ever known would.

“You’re the one who was touching without permission. And how do you know she didn’t want to be touched?” the man with the death wish counters.This guy is really dim, isn’t he?

“Anyone with eyes could see it.”

“You wanted me to touch you, didn’t you darlin?” the stranger asks sweetly as if it were unbelievable that a woman wouldn’t want to be touched by him.

He might be physically attractive on the outside, but something about him that rubs me the wrong way.

“No. I most certainly didnotwant you touching me. Now or ever.”

He pulls back in mock surprise, gasping and clutching his Gucci shirt as if he’d been insulted in the worst way.

“Sweetheart, you wound me.”

“I’m not your sweetheart, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your clammy hands to yourself,” I bite back.

I’ve always wanted to tell people like him what I really think of them, but I couldn't say anything with so many reporters always surrounding me. One wrong word in the press and my sweet, good-girl image would be ruined. If they knew the mouth, I had on me.

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