Page 8 of The Back Forty
“Alright,” he mumbles, backing away.
He turns and stalks off toward his car, leaving the woman and me in the haze of tension he dragged in like a storm cloud. I should walk away now too. Should turn and head inside. But I can feel her eyes on me, curious, guarded, grateful.
I sigh and glance back at her, knowing I’m not ready to let her out of my sight just yet.
“What was it you needed again, darlin’?” I ask instead.
Chapter 4 – Dani
Well, this is extremelyembarrassing.
I take in the guy who just saved me from what was starting to be a stressful encounter with a slow once-over, heart still thudding in my chest from the confrontation I just wriggled out of. He’s got that kind of light brown hair that curls up around his ears, a little too long in a way that makes it look intentional even though I’m betting he’s just overdue on a cut. His baseball cap is tugged down low over his face so I can't see his eyes, oh wait, he's flipping it backwards, now revealing a pair of gorgeous, hazel brown eyes that are way too intense for someone I just met in a parking lot.
His beard is filled in everywhere, no patchy scruff, just solid, masculine length that somehow makes the sharp angles of his nose and jaw look even stronger.
And then there’s that plain white T-shirt, stretched across his chest like it was tailored to his broad pecs and biceps. No logos. No flex. Just simple and incredibly effective.
He looks like he could work here or anywhere else in town doing a blue collar job. All steady eyes, strong hands, and quiet heat. The kind of guy who probably fixes things for a living and doesn’t talk just to hear himself. The opposite of every too-slick, tech-bro, West Coast type that I’ve spent the last two decades swiping right on and eventually blocking. And definitely nothing likethe guy who was just trying to haggle me for a blowjob in exchange for borrowing his phone charger.
Of all things.
I’ve dealt with my share of scummy men before considering the fact that LA’s practically a breeding ground for them, but that one really took the cake.
I know how to handle myself. Took self-defense in college. Kept up with it. Knew if he grabbed me, I had moves. But still. He was bigger and I know in a battle of wills against a drunk man; I was probably going to lose. I’m relieved this guy showed up. It’s irrational and kind of sexist, but right now? I’ll take the handsome hero stranger.
“I really need a phone charger,” I say, blowing out a breath. “I have an early wake-up call tomorrow and my phone’s completely dead. Also, I really,reallyhave to pee.”
His brow lifts just slightly, like he’s not sure if I’m joking. “You could’ve asked someone inside. Can’t promise they’ve got a charger, but it might’ve saved you from dealing with him.”
Oh God. That voice. There’s a hint of a Southern drawl, just the tiniest twang like he grew up here in the south, probably raised on horses and Saturday night bonfires. It hits low in my belly in a way I wasn’t expecting. Never thought I had a thing for cowboys before.
“Yeah…” I admit with a wince. “I forgot my phone was dead until I came out here to pee.”
His brow arches higher, curious now.
“There was a line,” I say quickly, “for the women’s bathroom. Like, a ridiculous one. Mile long. So, I figured I’d sneak out here and, you know… pop a squat between two trucks so I could get back to my game of darts.”
His lips twitch like he’s fighting a grin, and then a low, easy chuckle rumbles out of him. “I see.”
I don’t stop talking. I can’tstop talking. Because I'm overwhelmed and nervous about fitting in here. About my new job that officially starts tomorrow that I'm hoping will give me a fresh start, and all the things that I still don't know.
Plus, I like the way he’s looking at me, like he’s trying to piece me together without rushing. Like he’s not just noticing my legs or the fact that I’m wearing a paper-thin cotton shirt with no bra underneath—because, of course, my sister Isla dragged me out the second I arrived in town. No time to change. No time to think. Just her wide grin and the words,“You need a drink and a distraction before your flight in the morning. This will be good for you.”
“Honestly,” I say, stepping closer, “the owners of this place should’ve put more thought into building a bar with only two women’s bathroom stalls. It’s unconstitutional.”
That gets him. His brow creases as he rubs at his beard, eyes still locked on mine. “That so? What would you have done differently given the amount of space they have to work with?”
I hop down from the curb, boots crunching against gravel. My chest bounces with the movement, and his gaze flicks down for just a moment before meeting mine again with a heat that wasn’t there a minute ago.
“Well,” I say, thoughtful now, “there’s a ton of empty space to the right of the bathrooms. They could’ve easily blown out that wall and added at least two more stalls.”
“That’s where they have live music on the weekends.”
I nod slowly, weighing that. “Right, but they could carve out a sliver of that space and still have plenty of room for a stage. Peeing shouldn’t be an ordeal. Or, they could have taken some space from the men's room. Guys are way faster. One stall would have been sufficient.”
He chuckles again. “You make some solid points.”
“If women are spending their nights waiting in line, they’re not buying drinks, not flirting with guys who are buying them drinks, not staying longer. Frankly, it’s just bad business,” I shrug.
