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CHAPTER 1
Everyone is entitled to my opinion.
-Six’s secret thoughts
SIX
“I think we should break up.”
I blinked.
“Okay,” I said, unsure whether this guy realized that he was talking to me or not.
“I know that we’ve been dating a while…” the man continued.
But my concentration was caught not by the guy breaking up with me that I’d never seen before in my life, but by the man that was currently standing beside me, dressed in the three-piece suit.
I had no clue who he was.
But holy crap, could the man fill out a suit.
I’d never really been attracted to men that were so well put together, but this guy? And he was a man, there was no doubt about that. Whew, he was good-looking.
He was tall, a little over six foot two or three. He had silvering black hair that was more silver than gray, perfect hair that had a slight wave to it and piercing green eyes that made my heart start to hammer when I saw them directed at me.
“…I know that you’re a great lady,” the man breaking up with me said. “But I…”
Mr. Three-piece Suit’s lips twitched at my attention.
He brought a lowball glass of amber-colored liquid to his mouth and took a shallow sip.
That’s when I saw the cigar in the hand that was holding the glass.
It wasn’t lit, but it was obvious that, at one point, it had been.
On his hand closest to the tip of the cigar was a gold ring, not on his ring finger, but his middle.
It had a circle and some swirls on it, and I wanted to walk over to get a closer look at it.
Though, I wasn’t sure if it was the man’s ring that I wanted to look at, or the man himself.
He was deliciously tall, very well built, and looked as if he’d be just as exciting as getting a root canal. IE—not at fucking all. He looked Boring with a capital B.
His eyes turned to the man that was in front of me. The one saying ‘it wasn’t me, it was him.’
When the older man turned and dismissed me completely, I returned my gaze to the man in front of me.
“What’s your name again?” I asked.
“Uhh.” He paused. “Brighton.”
“Well, Brighton,” I said. “I think you need to lay off the alcohol for the evening. You’re drunk and you’re talking to a woman that’s never met you before in her life.”
“I’m not drunk,” Brighton said. “This isn’t funny, either. Jesus, Linda.”
I was already rolling my eyes.
“Listen, Linda,” I said as I polished off my beer. Yes, I said beer. If I was going to be somewhere I didn’t want to be, I was going to drink. “My name isn’t Linda. It’s Six. I’d appreciate it if you left me alone, k?”
Brighton’s eyes narrowed, and his cheeks went red.
“You don’t have to act like this, Linda,” he continued.
I was already walking away when he said that.
“Linda, don’t walk away from me when we’re talking!” Brighton growled, grabbing me by the hand and tugging.
Training took over—I didn’t tolerate stupidity easily and was trained in mixed martial arts—and I twisted my wrist out of Brighton’s hand. Seconds later, I had his thumb in a lock and his arm behind his back.
Twisting it viciously, I said, “Keep your hands to yourself. Especially when it comes to me.”
“Brighton, dude,” some random man said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to break up with Linda, but she assaulted me and won’t take no for an answer,” Brighton growled.
I snorted. “Yes, you’re trying to break up with Linda. I’m not Linda, you moron. Like I said earlier, my name is Six. I don’t even know a Linda.”
Brighton sneered at me.
The new man walked over and said, “I thought you were kidding when you said Linda was here.”
This other man looked at me like I was Linda, too.
Jesus Christ.
Pushing the man away from me so he wouldn’t get another chance at a grab, I stalked off, hoping that I got far enough away from him before he tried for a third round.
Luck was on my side as I wound myself through the crowd.
I was out of beer, and I needed another if I was going to deal with staying here.
I most certainly didn’t want to be here, though.
I had quite a few other things that I’d rather be doing at this moment in time. Like watching The Witcher for the fourth time. Or alphabetizing my spice cabinet. Folding the laundry in the dryer that’d been there for four days. Scrubbing my base boards clean. Hell, I could even go for pulling the mats out of my outside cat’s fur.
What I did not want to be doing was attending the mayor of Kilgore’s inauguration.
However, despite what I wanted, I didn’t have a choice. It was either be here, or never hear the end of it from my father. And sometimes, just keeping him happy and out of my life for the most part was easier than the alternative—him actually paying attention to me.
