Page 17 of The Cowboy Contract
And for some reason, he was enamored with her. Probably because—like Belle—she was completely and totally uninterested in him in any and all capacities.
“It’s too late. I’m pretty sure he already saw you.” Delores grimaced. “Even if he didn’t, that guy’s got a freaking sixth sense about where you are at all times.” Her eyes dipped to where Paige was hiding. “It’s creepy.”
Creepy wasn’t the word she would have used. Annoying. Obnoxious. Aggravating. All of those fit perfectly. Creepy insinuated that she was unnerved by Carlton’s attention. She wasn’t.
It fucking pissed her off.
As the owner of the only bar in Moss Creek, she’d dealt with her fair share of unwanted advances, so it would take more than a turd like him to freak her out. But just because it didn’t unnerve her, didn’t mean she wanted to deal with it. Especially tonight. Tonight she was over everything. Men. Her job. Herself.
And that was a dangerous place to be, because even under the best circumstances she could be a little... Abrupt.
“You want me to deal with him?” Delores leaned back against the bar, one brow angling. “I’m probably way less likely to assaulthim.” She tipped her head. “Which isn’t saying much, because I would love to punch that guy right in his face.”
“Don’t do that. He’d probably like it.” Paige scowled. “Men like him want a woman they think they can tame. They get off on the idea of breaking us. That’s the only reason he’s interested in me.” She straightened, deciding maybe a little altercation would help her relieve some stress. “They don’t realize better men have tried.” She turned to give Delores a smirk. “And most of them have cried.”
As predicted, Carlton seemed to hone in on her location like she was some sort of a fucking beacon. His head immediately snapped her way, eyes sharpening as they landed on where she stood behind the bar.
Too bad there wasn’t a cliff anywhere close by. She would love to go all beast mode and shove him off one. As it stood, she would have to settle for jabbing him with insults that would likely go right over his big head.
Carlton cut through the crowd before sidling right up to the bar. He leaned against it, giving her a megawatt smile that probably tricked women who’d never met him before into thinking he was attractive. “Fancy meeting you here.”
She didn’t bother stifling her sigh. “What can I get you?”
“I would love your number.” He went straight for the kill tonight. Normally, he beat around the bush a little. Tried to wear her down. Tonight, Carlton cut right to the chase, which wasn’t a good sign. “I want to take you places.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to what he likely thought was a seductive tone. “Places I’m sure you’ve never been before.”
Sick.
“Coming right up.” She turned away before he could say another word, moving to the line of liquor across the shelving at the back of the bar. She pulled out two glasses and went to work filling each one with concoctions she thought would be the least palatable in existence. Once she was finished, she dropped an olive into one and a cocktail onion in the other. Turning back, she set them on the bar in front of Carlton. “There you go. Want me to add them to your tab?”
His eyes dropped to the drinks before lifting back to hers, dark brows pinched together. “What are these?”
Paige pointed to the drink with the olive. “This is theTake You Places.” She motioned to the other. “And this one is aWhere You’ve Never Been Before.” She widened her eyes, feigning confusion. “Those are the two drinks you ordered, right?”
Carlton blinked at her and she could almost see his two brain cells running around trying to figure out what was happening, crashing into each other in their panic.
She gave him a smile, stepping away before either of them could come up with something. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
She must have confused the fuck out of him, because he stayed where he was, staring down at the glasses she’d placed in front of him while she moved on to the rest of the customers lined up. If a combination of Fireball and Blue Curaçao didn’t tell a man she wasn’t interested, nothing would.
A couple Carlton-free hours later, she was preparing to pat herself on the back for finally successfully getting through his thick skull, when his whiny voice whispered in her ear as she was collecting empty glasses from an abandoned eight top.
“Was that your way of flirting with me?”
Ugh. He would try to think that.
“I can promise you I wasn’t flirting.” She stacked the final glass on her tray and tried to turn away.
Her movements stalled when his heavy hand clamped onto her elbow. In all the times he’d tried to get her attention, he’d never touched her, and that had led her to believe maybe things wouldn’t get out of hand. But the way he gripped her now was tight. Firm enough it would take a few good yanks to get loose.
Or a serving tray to the forehead, whatever worked.
“I know you think it’s fun to play hard to get, but I’m starting to get impatient.” Any fake charm or false smoothness was gone from his tone, leaving behind nothing but flat aggression. And just like his fake, megawatt smile, the change probably affected most women.
But most women hadn’t grown up helping their dad run a bar full of ranch hands.
“I’m sure you think you’re doing something here, Carlton. But I promise, this is not going to go the way you want it to.” Her voice was sweet enough he should be terrified. Should know he was dealing with a woman on the edge of snapping.
But Carlton was stupid. Stupid enough to think she wouldn’t knock his teeth out of his face.
