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I felt my jaw clench as I came out from behind the counter. I walked toward the pussy of a man standing in front of me and wrapped my hands around behind my back. I could feel my brothers’ eyes on me, watching my hands ball up into fists as I hid them from our guests. No one needed to see any violence this morning.
But if he threw the first punch, I would be sure to end the fiasco.
“Sir. You have a contract outlining our policy, and I have been more than generous with the guests of this resort. Either you calm your voice and vacate the premises, or I will throw you out myself.”
I looked down at the man, a good four inches shorter than me. My smile was warm, but my eyes were blank.
I wanted him to know I could take him.
I wanted him to know whose territory he was standing in.
I wanted him to tremble in his shined shoes until his millions came falling out of his pockets.
“Hide behind that suit. Pussies do that,” Michael said with a murmur.
“You really should work on that language. Have a good day, Mr. Thompson.”
An older man approached Michael. I assumed he was the douchebag’s father.
“Come on, son. This man isn’t worth your weight in feathers.”
“I hope you will come and enjoy our resort soon,” I said.
“Not a fat chance in hell,” Michael said.
“Son? Decorum. Thompsons always hold themselves with decorum.”
I swallowed my chuckle as the man straightened his suit and headed for the door. He called me a pussy, but he was the one that had backed down. Men were astounding sometimes, and I didn’t know how parents could live with themselves. Raising such insolent and offensive animals to unleash onto the whole of society.
Michael’s father looked back at me, a gleam of anger in his eyes. I knew we would see some court paperwork cross this desk soon, but all I’d have to do is send our lawyer out with a copy of our standard contractual agreement. I’d outline all the extra things I’d offered each individual guest, and no courtroom would side with the likes of “The Thompsons.”
I grinned at them as they made their way out the door, silently wishing it’d hit the asshole on the way out.
“Morning, Dylan.”
Katie’s voice pulled me from my dark trance as my shoulders relaxed. Her tousled blonde tresses and rich chocolate eyes framed a beautiful heart-shaped face.
The delicate curve of her neck reached shoulders that were smattered with freckles from growing up in the sun. Her breasts were ample and perky, and her hips were curved like a racetrack I’d always dreamed of taking a spin on.
“How long have you been standin’ there, doll?” I asked.
“Long enough to know I made the right choice. Thank you… for everything.”
“There’s no need to thank me. You know that.”
“Well I’m grateful anyway. Why do you bury your accent when you’re working,” she asked.
“Because while we cater to a decadent country lifestyle, many people still feel a deep southern accent’s more fittin’ of an idiot than a man in a suit. It’s good to see you out and about. Looks like a night of rest did you some good.” I said.
“If you can call it that,” she said with a snicker. “I’m sorry for hiding.”
“Don’t be sorry for nonsense like that. Come ‘ere.”
I opened my arms to her body, and she fell into my embrace. There were notes of vanilla in her hair, a far cry from the tangy notes I recalled from her younger years. She was soft and warm. Delicate in my arms and trembling on her feet. She wasn’t the young girl I remembered. The powerful, sassy, cussing little thing that enjoyed bonfires and slinging back bottles of beer to keep up with the likes of us.
“I hate that I caused you all so much trouble,” Katie said.
“Don’t be,” I said as I rubbed her back. “I’d rather deal with all this than you bein’ in some shitty marriage. Harder to clean up those messes.”
