Page 4 of Easy

Chapter5

When I getto the bar, I shun every guy who tries to pick me up. That email has me on edge and I practically bite the head off of every man brave enough to approach. I down another shot and slam it on the bartop.

The barkeep is a young guy with dark skin and thick arms. He’s got a shaved head with a tattoo across the back of his neck. The collar on his white shirt hides the details, but there’s a bit of ink peeking above the edge of the fabric. He glances at me but says nothing. He’s been keeping an eye on the guys who come up and get shot down. I gave him the last set of drinks two guys sent over—as if I’d jump into bed with twomen.

I sigh deeply as I try to get the persistent cowboy on the stool next to me to go away. I’m scrolling through a news feed and not listening to him when he places a hand on my thigh and rolls his wrist so his fingertips brush the V at the top of my legs. I jump out of my chair and scream, “What thefuck!”

The guy is wearing a huge ass white felt cowboy hat with a plaid shirt and very tight ironed jeans. Coupled with the boots, he’s one of those pretty frat boy cowboys—not the actual working cowboy that comes in dusty from working hard on a farm all day. His face is impish with a nose that is two sizes too large. His eyes are small and beady like a rodent.

He remains seated and flicks his thumb to the back of his nose and laughs at me. “Calm down, honey. I’ll buy you a drink first if that’s the way you want it.” He chortles in a light, airy way that makes me irate.

“Go fuck yourself,” I growl. People are watching us now and my anger has sharpened my accent. It’s clear I’m not one of them, that I’m a Yankee city girl. I’ve seen how they treat other women when they realize she’s not from a small town. It’s awful, but I’m too angry to care at the moment. My body is tense, every muscle corded tight, as my left-hand balls into a fist at myside.

“Now, that’s not a very purdy thing to say, sweetheart. You city girls have filthy mouths. I know what I’d like to do with that sinful set of lips.” He stands up and is way too close to me. His belt buckle catches on my blouse as he rises. I step back but he moves towardme.

The bartender speaks behind me. “Simmer down, Tommy. She ain’t interested.”

Tommy glances past me at the guy and grins. “She don’t know that, not really. These fast women wander in from the city and bring their trashy ways with ‘em. Well, it’s our patriotic duty to show them what a real Texan woman would do. It gives her something to aspireto.”

When he redirects his attention toward me, he’s all slimy smiles, arrogance, and asshole. The guy never sees my fist coming until it connects with his cheek. I throw all my weight into it and slam straight into his jaw. It gives under my knuckles as the look of shock on his face suddenly turns to anger. The place has gone quiet, everyone watching, too afraid to blink because they’ll miss what happens next. I stand there shaking, staring at the man, ready to punch him again.

A table of college boys jeers the man, humiliating him. “That’s not how you pick up a woman, dude!” The table laughs, followed by a few other fellows sitting around the bar. The women don’t smile or move. They’re still watchingus.

Tommy leans down and gets in my face, hissing, “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

Before he can say another word, Tommy is yanked away and staggers backward. A strong hand is holding the collar of his shirt. I follow the grip and see it’s connected to the man that threw the sheet music in the concert hall. There’s nothing soft about him now, no indication that he held a baton less than an hourago.

He roughly handles Tommy, pulling him close enough to whisper to the man. Tommy’s rage drains, leaving his face pale and his eyes wide. His jaw hangs open, apparently intimidated by the quiet threats of the concert hall guy. Tommy rips away from him and staggers back a step. He glares at me before turning on his heel and rushingout.

The college guys burst out laughing. A few pound the table and hurl insults after Tommy. I’m still standing by my stool, heart racing, with clenched fists still ready to fight. The concert hall guy paces toward me, dark boots scuffing the peanut shells as he nears me. I don’t want to talk, but I suppose I need to thank him. My lips part, waiting for him to ask if I’m all right, an answer already on my tongue when he sweeps past me and says nothing. He doesn’t even look at me. He heads to the end of the bar and takes a seat. A moment later, an amber liquid is placed in front of him by the barkeeper who obviously knows this moody mystery maestro. The man keeps his dark head down, eyes on his drink, and ignores everythingelse.

Part of me is glad he didn’t hit on me, but the rest of me is offended that he didn’t ask if I was all right. I sit down on my stool and swallow my thanks. Cowboys are assholes. Or maybe all men are assholes. I can’t tell at the moment because this guy is so intense that it’s hard to look away. I find myself staring athim.

When he lifts his head, he looks straight past me. It pisses me off so badly, that I down my drink, and saunter over to the end of thebar.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demand. I stand next to the stool at his side and glare at his chiseled cheek, dusted with stubble.

He doesn’t turn to look at me. He doesn’t make any indication that he’s aware ofme.

“What the hell? Why bother helping me if you’re going to be as big a dick as the otherguy?”

He laughs. It’s a deep sound, surprised almost. He keeps his focus locked on the other end of the bar and remains silent after that brief chortle.

I walk back to my spot, grab my next shot, and then head to the opposite end of the bar. I sit down in the place where the beautiful silent man had been staring. I expect him to look away, but he doesn’t. I lift my shot and down the liquid before slamming the glass on the bar. His eyes are ice blue, nearly silver, they’re so light. I expected them to be dark. The contrast with his tanned skin and inky hair is striking. He holds my gaze and it feels like a challenge to see who will look away first.

I have no idea what his damage is, but I’m too tired to deal with crazy guys tonight. I tip up my chin at him and say the one word that I feel I must convey. “Thanks.”

When I slide off the stool, I pay my tab, and head for the door. As I shove out into the cool night air, I take a deep breath. That’s when the hairs on my arms rise up and connect at the back of my neck. I glance around, seeing no one, but I sensehim.