The asshole from the diner who thought it would be cute to ask her to grab a milkshake. I’m pretty sure he had mommy issues.
The prick at the shop who was fixing her car and thought he could ask her to dinner. That fuck had been through every girl in town.
None of these fuckers could ever take care of her the way that I do. Neither will the asshole in Florida. Nikki is mine.
My little kitten.
My baby girl.
My sweet angel.
The only person in the entire universe I’d protect with my life, and I dare any fuck to test my resolve.
Chapter Three
Nikki
Mulligan is a tall and lanky man with a handlebar mustache that reminds me of a cartoon villain. I wonder if cartoon villains wear cheap cologne too. Given the money he’s about to drop on the lake houses’ sale, you’d think the man could afford something that doesn’t smell like an overpowering blast of car air freshener. Then again, maybe he spends every dime on real estate and has none left for anything else.
I swirl the ice in my water glass as I lean in, trying to look interested in the details of the conversation he’s started on World War II. Apparently, the U.S. Army had a plan to use bats as weapons by attaching explosives to them. I zoned out for so long I’m not sure if he’s talking about baseball bats or flying rodents. Both would be equally stupid.
I have to say, I’ve never been more disinterested in a conversation in my entire life, except for maybe ninth grade history where the teacher droned on for hours about the rise and fall of the Roman empire. That said, he often flipped into tales of mythology when he was teaching, which I was interested in occasionally.
So congrats, Mulligan. This conversation is the worst in human history.
For goodness’ sake, I think the people at the table next to us are second-hand bored. They’ve glanced over multiple times,and I know the look of a person when they’re silently judging. I use it daily myself. It’s one of those passed down, small-town gifts. Before you realize you’re doing it, you’ve got the eyebrow audit move down better than your grandma ever did.
It’s nice to see growth amongst generations.
“Anyway,” he takes a sip of the IPA he’s barely touched, “I’m glad you decided to have dinner with me. I’m sorry if I came off wrong the other day. Pretty girls make me nervous.”
The acrid taste of bile swirls in my throat and the urge to stand and throw my water in his face overwhelms me. Maybe he’s forgotten that I only agreed to this dinner because he called my father to tattle on me.
I grip my glass tighter, the cold condensation gathering on my palm.
You’re here to make a sale, Nikki. It’s one dinner. One single dinner. That’s all.
“Sure,” I manage, forcing a grin. “I enjoy meeting with clients to talk about investment opportunities. The properties you’re signing for tomorrow at the lake are premier investments. We typically have sold out rentals in the area from May to November. Then we see another spike in December and January. Plus, with all the renovations the guys over at Combat Craftsman did, you’re getting a fantastic deal.”
Mulligan takes another sip of Alpine Ale and leans in. “You don’t need to sell me on the property anymore, sweetheart. I’m signing for it tomorrow. You’ve done your job. I’m here for you and that gorgeous face.”
Oh God.
He reaches his hand across the table, his poisonous caterpillar brows narrowing inward. “I thought I made it clear this was more than business. I’d like to get to know you better, take my time with you.”
Gross! Ugh, the way he just said that makes me want to vomit!
I tug my hand away quickly, my skin still crawling from his soft, clammy grip as Reed grabs the guy by the back of his jacket and pulls him up out of his chair.
Reed?
My heart swells and thumps hard against the cage in my chest. I didn’t even realize Reed was here yet. In fact, I was starting to think he wasn’t coming. Then again, I didn’t really need this level of intervention just because Mulligan’s hand touched me.
I thought Reed was here more as back up or moral support. Not as a combat trained Doberman with an inner rage he never learned how to control.
The couple next to me must feel the same way, because they’re full-on jaw to the ground, side-eye supreme. Can’t blame them. Lord knows I’d be staring too.
I stand from my chair, face hot, chest tight as I stare up at the giant man whose voice makes my pussy pulse. “What are you doing?”
