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And there was something else.
The bartender with an attitude was none other than the girl from the gas station. I leaned against one of the bar top tables, crossing my feet at the ankles. I had to admit, the woman was good at being an enforcer.
She swung the steel bat with purpose, her aim at the offending customer’s private parts, stopping only an inch before hitting the target.
The guy screamed, jumping back by two feet, slamming into a table and falling on the floor. It was easy to tell the regulars from those who weren’t used to Jess’s method of handling heathens.
They didn’t flinch when she leveled the bat.
Wasting no time, she stormed toward the jerk, her cowboy boots thudding against the cheap tile floor. She planted one hand on her hip, leaning over and glaring down at the man as she shook her head. “I’m going to offer you a piece of advice, buddy. Get out and stay out if you still want the opportunity to father children. Although maybe I would be doing the world a favor by keeping more Neanderthals from being born.”
She kept her heated glare until the man scrambled to his feet. When he tried to back away, she lifted her bat again. “That’ll be twenty-five bucks, buddy.”
“I only had one beer.”
“That’s the price of dealing with you. Now, fork it over.”
The former customer did as he was told, fumbling as he tried to jerk his wallet into his hands. He yanked out several bills and as soon as he did, she pointed to the table behind him. He promptly placed them gingerly on the surface then took off racing toward the entrance, his shoulder slamming into me when he did.
“She’s fuckin’ crazy,” the man snarled as he fled past.
I chuckled, more amused than I’d been in a long time. After she grabbed the money, shoving it into her back pocket, I started to clap.
Very slowly she lifted her head, narrowing her eyes as recognition settled in. She took a deep breath, sauntering toward me. The closer she came, the easier it was to see a look of venom in her eyes.
“You stalking me?” she asked.
“Did you miss me?” I countered.
“You’re an arrogant ass.”
“You’re an opinionated woman who needs some anger management.”
I’d stolen the wind from her sails since it took her a few seconds before she snorted. The way she looked all the way down to my rattlesnake skin boots was clearly in disapproval. “So what if I do, city slicker?”
I shrugged, glancing at the men, only a few of them paying attention any longer. “No skin off my teeth, as my grandfather used to say.”
She narrowed her eyes, resting the tip of the bat on the floor. “What are you doing here?’
“This is a bar. Isn’t it?”
“That depends. Are you going to cause trouble?”
“Do you own this place?”
Her lovely mouth twisted, the red lipstick she was wearing accentuating their plumpness. “No, but I get to decide who drinks and who doesn’t.”
“Well, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like a whiskey. Neat.”
She cocked her head, a smirk crossing her face. “Sure thing, city slicker. But if you cause any trouble, you’re out of here. You got it?”
“Oh, I got it alright.”
She looked me over once again before nodding. “Then you can stay. I’ll get your whiskey.” She headed back to the bar, moving to the other side instead of jumping over. “Make room, boys. We have an out of towner visiting us tonight. A real city slicker. Make him feel like he’s at home.”
A few of the guys grumbled but one of them moved off the bar, giving me a hard look as he headed in my direction. His onceover was less arrogant than hers but no less amusing. The dude had the nerve to point his finger at me. “You fuck with the lady and you’ll need to deal with me.”
While at least my grandfather had done his best to help me learn how to treat and respect women, which I’d incorporated into my life, pretentious assholes were something else altogether. I grabbed his wrist, bending it back at an awkward angle before he had a chance to sneer.
