Page 45 of Wallflower
I shove my way through the crowd, my anger rising, and insert myself between Violet and the dickhead. Her face lights up when she sees the broad chest in her way belongs to me.
“You came,” she says with a happy sigh and heavy eyelids that float closed before opening again.
I resist the urge to grin like a goofball—just. It’s getting harder and harder not to smile for this woman. “I did.”
The guy behind me pokes my shoulder—hard. “Hey! We was talking here.”
I ignore the jab and the comment because that’s infinitely smarter than turning and decking him, which is what I want to do.
“You said you’ve had enough?” I ask her. “Did you want me to take you home now, or can I tempt you into one more dance?”
“I—”
“I said, fuck off!”
The drunk falls against my back in what I assume is supposed to be a shove. I barely stumble, but I’m jostled enough to knock Violet’s cocktail out of her hand. She squeals as the sticky drinkpours down her chest, soaking the purple fabric of her top and coaxing her nipples to stiff peaks. I spare a moment to imagine licking the sweet liquid from her skin before I spin around and kick the legs of the farmer’s stool out from under him. He drops to the floor with a string of curses, and I lean down to grab him by the shirt, accidentally tearing the fabric when I do.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the fuck down there until I tell you it’s okay to get up. Understood?”
“Hey, man.” He’s suddenly looking a lot more sober. “It’s cool. I didn’t know she was with you.”
“Shouldn’t matter that she’s with me, asshole. When a woman tells you no, it means no. Now shut the fuck up and stay down on the floor where you belong.”
I release his shirt with a warning shove that drives him to the peanut shell-strewn boards, then straighten. My gaze goes straight to Violet, my eyes running over her body to make sure every inch of her is safe. “You okay?”
She dabs at her wet skin with a soggy napkin, and her chestnut eyes are wide as she stares at me. “That was… That was…”
I pull a lock of her hair from where it’s stuck to the moisture on her collarbone and tuck it behind her ear. “That was… what?”
Stupid? Overkill? A disgusting display of male ego that belongs on the ice?
“Hot,” she answers with another breathy sigh.
My eyebrows shoot up, and fuck, there’s a half-smile on my mouth and nothing I can do about it.
A loud, short cackle sounds from behind the bar, startling us both. It’s Mona, and she spares me a wry smile before handing Violet a damp towel—and a fresh cup of sangria.
“You’re not supposed to say that sort of thing out loud, honey. Sets us women back decades and gives idiot men ideas that only get ’em into trouble.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Violet shrugs a little but doesn’t seem all that contrite, especially when she downs another long swallow of her drink.
I’ve known Mona all my life, and in those thirty-four years, she’s always had hair so red it could only come from a bottle. Her heart-shaped face grows more attractive with every line, and her no-bullshit attitude makes her the perfect proprietor of The Slippery Tipple.
She rounds the counter to take a look at who I just dropped, then gives me an approving nod before she opens her arms and waves me in.
“Didn’t know you were back in town, sweetheart. Come give me a little affection.”
I scoop her into a hug. “Hey, Mona. You’re looking good.”
“You’re a hot liar, is what you are.” She chuckles. “But I’ll take it.”
She returns to the other side of the bar and picks up a dish towel to mop up the splashes of Violet’s spilled cocktail. “Now, what brings you down here?” she asks before her eyes slide knowingly to Violet. “Let me guess. This sweet girl here, am I right?”
The jerk on the floor tries to crawl away slowly so I don’t notice, so I do him a favor and pretend I don’t. Violet watches my exchange with Mona with glassy eyes, and she probably won’t remember a minute of this conversation.
Still, I clear my throat, tuck my chin, and lower my voice. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Glad to hear it. I get the impression this one isn’t used to the breakneck pace your sister likes to run at.” Mona nods toward the dance floor, then shakes her head. “And she’s not alone tonight, so it’s even worse. No woman with half a brain would try and keep up with those two.”
