“Mind if I join you?”
Rude, to slide into the booth without an invitation. “And if I do?”
“Guess I’d have to convince you.”
Reviled by the prospect, Mike indicated the seat she’d already taken. “By all means, make yourself comfortable.”
“Already did.” Laughing, she noted, “You sure are uptight. Whiskey not helping?”
“I don’t look to alcohol to solve my problems.” He had a brain for that. “Is that what you’re hoping to do?” He glanced at her drink—thankfully not a beer—and lifted his brows. “Are you hoping to unwind...?”
“Shara,” she said, supplying her name, and even reaching over the table to offer a small hand, her long nails painted a glaring red.
Never would he give this woman his actual name. “Leon,” he said, bringing back the alias he’d used once before, when it was necessary to hide his real name.
With this woman, he’d be Leon again.
Her hand felt rough, making him wonder at her occupation. Glory’s skin was always soft, pampered, and never would she paint her nails such a garish color.
“Actually,” Shara said, “I found out a guy I liked has hooked up with someone else. Pisses me off, you know?”
The crude language annoyed him. “I’m sure it’s his loss.”
Her glossy lips curled. “I thought maybe I’d retaliate. Have my own fling and then tell him about it.”
Whore.Mike barely kept his revulsion hidden. “I’m dealing with a similar situation, but I won’t sully myself with anyone else. I love her and that’s what matters.” Ithadto matter. Eventually, Glory would realize it.
Once before, he’d met a woman he thought would do... but she’d let him down. Getting rid of her hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it. The same way he’d gotten rid of his mother. In this world, he’d discovered that there weren’t many women like his Glory, a beautiful beacon of gentleness, the perfect counterpoint to his turbulence. Around her, he could find calm moderation.
Away from her, the tempest raged.
Shara’s laugh broke into his thoughts. “Sully yourself? Are you for real?”
Tight with anger, he stared at her until she ended her giggles. “Love is a serious emotion. I assume you don’t actually love this man or you wouldn’t be offering yourself elsewhere.”
“Love Kam?” she asked. “I certainly loved things about him. I would have married him. Still would, I guess, but—why are you staring at me like that?” She snapped her fingers in his face. “C’mon, man. You okay?”
Belatedly, Mike remembered to inhale. This foul woman knew Kam? It had to be the same man. Surely, this tiny backward town didn’t boast two men with that exact uncommon name.
“Excuse me,” he said, taking a moment to sip his drink and quiet his rioting instincts. Patting his mouth with his napkin, he finally met her gaze. “So Kam is the one you want?”
“Yes,” she purred. “He’s delicious.”
“He sounds like a small man.” Gently leading her, he said, “Probably pale.”
“Ha! You couldn’t be more wrong. He’s over six feet tall, ripped from his work on a tree farm and machine shop. Not at all pale—not with his brown hair, dark brows and lashes.”
Dreamily, as if she’d slipped into a mental fantasy, Shara smiled. In his head, Mike locked down the details she’s provided: tree farm, machine shop. If either of those establishments were in the actual town, they’d be easy for him to find. “Whatever lurid things you’re envisioning are likely best kept to yourself.” Doing his utmost to hide his disgust, he folded his hands on the booth tabletop. “So who is your Kam seeing now?”
“Some snooty bitch.”
The vicious squeeze of his hands caused his knuckles to pop. How dare this miserable slut insult his Glory? Through his teeth, he asked, “Have you met her?”
“No, but I’ve seen her. She polishes herself up like a piece of fine china. Never a hair out of place, never a wrinkle in her designer duds. I doubt a woman like her has ever cut loose.”
“Of course, she hasn’t.”
Brows lifted in surprise, Shara stared at him.
