“The guy who’s going to break you in half if you don’t cool it. You don’t come to a bar, take a lady’s drink and then yell when she points out that you’ve made a mistake.”
His voice isn’t loud, but there’s steel underneath, like a well-honed knife. Menace radiates from him, and I bet he’s dying for an excuse to hurt Mr. No-Manners.
I lean over a little to see the jerk’s reaction. His face is radish red. “Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that? Do you know who I am?”
“Mmm… Let’s see…” Mr. Fortress gives it some thought. “Nobody.”
“He’s right. If you have to ask, ‘Do you know who I am?’ you are nobody,” I add, in case nobody bothered to teach him that, either.
“Shut up, bitch!” The lawyer guy jabs his index finger into my savior’s chest. “Listen, asshole—”
Mr. Fortress grabs his wrist with the viciousness of a striking snake and twists.
“Ack!” The lawyer guy drops to his knees, his face twisting with pain. Probably nothing is broken, but the angle looks incredibly uncomfortable.
Fortress follows the wristlock with a kick that makes the guy double up and whimper. “Fuck!” he wheezes. “I’m gonna sue your ass!”
“Excellent. My lawyer will be in touch. Jeremiah Huxley. Perhaps you’ve heard of her.”
Chapter Six
Huxley
At the mention of Jeremiah, the man goes flaccid faster than an eighty-year-old with performance issues. Huxley & Webber is on retainer, and although this matter doesn’t technically pertain to my business, she’ll handle it because she always wants to handle anything related to my legal affairs.
All I wanted was a stiff drink or three after leaving Uncle Prescott’s house, and getting involved in a scene wasn’t in the plan. But at the same time, I couldn’t let some asshole physically bully a woman half his size. Although she was doing her best to hide her fear, I noticed the slight pallor of her face, her hands clenched and arms vibrating with tension when he started to use his size and strength to intimidate her.
He slinks away to his buddies. They start talking to him and throw some furtive—and a few overt—looks my way. The asshole himself stands with his back to me, shrugging and obviously trying to play the encounter off as no big deal. But his hands are trembling slightly, and he sticks them in his pockets.That’s right, motherfucker.
“Thank you,” the woman says. Her voice, now devoid of aggressive sarcasm, is sweet and melodious with a hint of a smoky undertone, like a great cigar. I like the way it flows.
“My pleasure, believe me.” I check her over to make sure she’s okay, then bring my eyes back to up to meet her gorgeous blue ones. They sparkle even in the bar’s dim light, remindingme of the sunny Pacific. “Can’t have a lady getting abused by some jerk. Besides, I respect that you didn’t back down. Most would’ve cowered.” I take the seat next to her.
“Showing fear would’ve only emboldened him,” she says, a steely light in her eyes.
Amusement tugs at the corner of my mouth, as a sliver of respect slides into my heart. “True enough. But still, with the size difference, you looked pretty brave there.”
She wrinkles her little nose. “Not really.” Her voice drops low, and I’m forced to lean closer to catch her words. “I was actually a teeny bit afraid. It’s just that backing down is exactly what bullies want.”
There’s the lingering fire from the whiskey on her breath. She smells warm and sweet, like peach cobbler spiced with cinnamon. “But that’s exactly what bravery is. Standing up for something even when you’re afraid.”
She exhales softly. Her heart-shaped face is stunning this close, especially as it’s framed with long, wavy hair that’s a brown so dark it’s almost black. Charming freckles dust the bridge of her nose, and she has cherry lips that make me want to have a quick taste to see if they’re as sweet as they look. But the best feature is her eyes—wide and clear, in a stunning shade of baby-blue. They shine with intelligence, humor and a glint of steel. A smart woman with a spine. Something hot stirs in my gut, displacing the tension from the aborted dinner.
When was the last time I felt anything remotely like this? And this fast?
“You have really pretty eyes.” She gives a short laugh. “I guess you probably hear that a lot.”
It takes a second before I can recover. It’s like she’s reading my mind. “Not really.”
“Seriously?”
“The people in my life don’t generally notice my eyes.” My brothers are…well, guys. And unsentimental, except when it comes to their women and children. Grandmother and Mother are too preoccupied, plotting ways to get me to join the firm or marry one of the worthless Webber girls. And the women I’ve dated were always too busy cataloguing my watch, my clothes, my car and my house. Or the possibility that I might be a bridge to my father, who would undoubtedly make them all into stars if only he would come to know about their existence.
She arches a skeptical eyebrow. “You must be surrounded by a lot of oblivious folks.”
I laugh. “They have different priorities.”
The bartender brings me my scotch, and I push it to her. “Here. To make up for that whiskey.”
