Page 71 of Mr. Fixer Upper
The bartender poured. “Penis?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Paige blinked.
“Usually the only thing that makes a woman look the way you look is a penis that turns into an asshole.”
Paige snorted despite herself. How apt. “That’s a pretty accurate assessment,” she nodded.
The woman put the bottle back on the top shelf. “Eventually you learn they’re all assholes in their own special snowflake kind of way.”
She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, Paige noted without surprise. “So what are we supposed to do?”
She shrugged strong, lean shoulders. “Love ‘em anyway or switch teams.”
Paige drank to that.
“I don’t suppose your guy is ripped and tatted and looks like he wants to murder anyone who gets in his way?” the bartender asked, her tone conversational.
Paige’s gaze flew to the doorway where Gannon, his hard jaw set and his fists clenched at his side, stared at her. “Fuck.”
“Is this a cop matter?” the bartender asked blandly.
Paige shook her head. “No, just a temper tantrum waiting to happen.”
“There’s a back door through the kitchen if you need it.”
Gannon strode to her and then seemed to battle with himself when he got within striking distance. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped.
Paige could have iced him out if he led with a half-assed apology. She could have ignored him if he pleaded with her to listen to his side. But jumping on her as if she was the one who did something wrong?
The fuse was lit, and detonation was imminent.
“How dare you!” Paige hissed at him. The bartender eyed them from arm’s reach of the greasy phone mounted on the wall. “What the hell is wrong with me? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me. The guy I’ve been sleeping with has been cheating on me with his girlfriend who showed up at my job and humiliated me today. That’s what’s wrong with me, you imbecilic asshole!”
“You get pissed off over a misunderstanding, freeze me out, and then I have to come looking for you, and I find you drinking alone in a bar in a city you don’t know!” Gannon plowed down his list of Paige’s offenses.
“A misunderstanding?” Her voice had reached dog whistle heights. She knocked back the rest of her drink, threw some bills on the bar, and rose. She wobbled a little and then righted herself, turning on him. “You want a fight? You got one. Let’s go.” She threw a little salute to the bartender and stormed out the front door.
He didn’t let her go far. She’d barely made it to the curb when he gripped her upper arm with surprising force. “Stop it.” He gave her a little shake that rattled her teeth, and she rounded on him.
“You’re giving me every reason in the book to break that pretty face of yours,” she warned him, enjoying the slow burn of alcohol and anger mix in her gut.
He hauled her down the sidewalk, ignoring the looks they got from the handful of late night wanderers. Paige noted none of them seemed remotely interested in intervening.
“Let go of me!” She tried yanking her arm free, but he only tightened his grip. In an impressive show of immaturity, Paige tried to kick him in the shin. She missed, catching him instead in his muscled calf. He solved the problem by slinging her over his shoulder and carrying her the half block to his pick-up truck.
He put her down and caged her against the door with his arms. “Now, I’m going to put you in this truck and you’re going to stay put and listen.”
She glared at him, her hair disagreeably falling over one eye. He brushed it back for her. “Please.” The word sounded like it pained him.
She didn’t agree, and he didn’t wait for it. He opened the passenger door, manhandled her inside, and strapped her into the seat. When he slammed the door, he locked the truck with the key fob to slow her down if she tried to make a break for it before he could get behind the wheel.
Paige didn’t want to run. For once in her life, she wanted to fight.
Gannon climbed in and relocked the doors but didn’t make any moves to start the truck. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
Paige waded in with every ounce of hurt and rage that her body held. “I’d ask you the same thing, but judging from Meeghan’s, rack I can take a wild guess.”
Gannon slapped the steering wheel. “There is nothing between me and Meeghan!”
