Page 28 of The Belle and the Biker

“Yes,” I growl.

“Oh, good, you can buy me a drink, then. Do they have light beer?”

“I said yes, that seat’s taken.” I’m sitting in a row of empty bar stools.

I deliberately swing around and turn my back to her. I don’t know what her game is, and I’m not in the mood to find out.

She pauses for a moment. “How about if I buy you a drink?” she says to my back. “What are you having?”

“Beer. And I buy my own drinks,” I answer her without bothering to turn around. I pull my phone out and check my messages to drive home my lack of interest.

“Seems like you’re having a bad night.” She tries to sound all warm and sympathetic.

“Seems like you can’t pick up a hint.”

Instead of storming off, she leans over the bar and tries to catch the bartender’s attention. Even though it’s a slow night, the bartender ignores her. The blonde clearly doesn’t belong here. She stands out in a way that Savannah never did. Savannah’s like a cute, energetic puppy who wants everyone to like her. Sometimes she says stupid stuff, like asking a tattooed, tongue-pierced waitress if she keeps in touch with her sorority sisters. But she always means well and does it in such a sunny, clueless way that it’s cute, not offensive.

This lady, though, looks like she’s fighting not to wrinkle her nose in disgust. She’s sitting rigidly upright so she doesn’t have to touch the back of the barstool and clutching her purse like she thinks someone’s about to steal it.

“Do you think you could get the bartender’s attention for me?” She shakes her head in annoyance. “They have terrible service here.”

I swivel around to face her again. “You talking about my sister?” I growl. That’s a lie, but I’d say about anything to move this tourist along.

“Your…sister?” She looks at me skeptically. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” Then she freezes, her eyes shuttling to the side.

“What exactly did you know about me?” My voice goes low and dangerous.

She stays very still, except for one hand sliding into her purse. It looks like she’s going for either pepper spray or her cell phone.

There’s only one explanation. And it explains why she’s continuing to hit on me, despite me acting like the world’s biggest asshole. “My father sent you; he was talking about me meeting someone respectable.”

She lets out a breath and relaxes a little. “Well, you’re certainly not going to meet a nice woman hanging around a place like this and with that attitude.” She scrunches up her face in disgust.

“Yep. That’s exactly the point.”

She leans forward and reaches out to put her hand on my arm. I look down at her hand, and then I look her in the eye, and she’s smart enough to snatch her hand back.

“Your father seems like a very nice man who cares about you very much.”

“Care to cut the shit and get to the point?”

Even that’s not enough to chase her off.

Her glossy lips curve up in what is meant to be a sexy smile. Does nothing for me. “My name is Astrid Menasco. Of Menasco International Holdings? You’ve heard of us?”

“Oh, yeah, sure I have.”

She beams with self-satisfaction.

“Your grandfather was a famous Kentucky goat molester, right? Those Menascos?”

She leaps right up off her chair. “He most certainly was not!” she squalls, her cheeks reddening. Actually, the Menascos are in oil. I know who they are. They’re friends with my father’s side of the family, which means they’re scum in my book.

“Sorry, sorry. I got that all wrong.” I hold up my hands in a placating gesture. She starts to relax a little. “It was a cow. My memory’s a little bad. Due to all the drinking.” I drain my mug and wave at the bartender, who hurries over to refill my drink, ignoring Astrid.

She draws in a breath and lets it out in a slow hiss. “All right. We got off on the wrong foot. I am the forgiving type, though.” She bats her eyes at me. “And I like a man who plays hard to get. I mean, I get hit on all the time. So many guys ask me out. It’s nice to see a man who wants to go slow.”

“Get your eyes checked. I’m a man who wants you to leave him the hell alone.”

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