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What is it with men who can’t accept the fact that a woman isn’t interested in them and therefore become defensive?
“You’re a little too plump in all the wrong places,” he said, eyeing me up and down.
“It’s time for you to leave,” I ordered, my voice stern even though I was shaking a little bit on the inside. At least in my marriage, I knew the monster that was coming home to me each night. But with Lars? A complete stranger? I didn’t know where he drew his lines of anger.
“Whatever. I’ll be back tomorrow to get to work.”
“It’s probably best if you don’t come back,” I said, knowing there was no way Yoana would be comfortable with someone like him working on their property. She’d never want me to feel uncomfortable. And Lars? He was the definition of discomfort.
He snickered, shaking his head. “You don’t have the right to fire me. As you said, your sister is my client—not you.”
“And my sister will be getting a call from me the moment you leave. Now, leave.”
“Listen, lady—” he said, stepping toward me, making me flinch backward. Gosh, I hated that. I hated him seeing reaction escape from me. I hated how I saw the flicker of confidence my flinching gave him. I hated looking weak in front of men. I hated feeling boxed in.
His chest puffed out as he stood taller. “I can’t have you messing with my income, so we are going to have to figure something out.”
“Or how about this? How about you listen and leave her property,” a voice said, making Lars and me both look in the direction of Joy’s house. There he stood, Mr. Personality at the short fence that separated Joy’s yard from mine. His eyes were stern and filled with…anger? Was that anger? Only this time the maddening look was focused on Lars.
“How about you mind your own fucking business, buddy?”
Mr. Personality walked around the fence and then over to my yard. He stood face to face with Lars, and within seconds, Lars looked like a little fish about to be eaten by a shark. Sure, Lars was a bigger guy, tall and somewhat fit, but Mr. Personality was fit. Likefitfit. Like,will lift a car with his pinky and not break a sweatfit.
They had a staring contest for a few moments before Lars stepped back and surrendered. “Whatever, man. I don’t have time for this.” Lars turned his stare to me, and his blue eyes looked a little colder. “Good luck finding another landscaper to finish this shit. I’m the only one in town, so congratulations—you’ve fucked over your sister’s yard.”
“Leave,” Mr. Personality hissed, his stare still throwing daggers at Lars.
“Okay, okay, asshole.” With a sinister snicker, Lars tossed his hands up into the air. “Don’t shoot.”
Those words rolled off his tongue in a disturbing fashion, and now it was time for Mr. Personality to stumble backward a bit. His eyes flashed with emotion before he blinked it away. What was that? What was the story behind his slip of emotion?
Lars hurried away, and I watched a slow exhausted sigh fall from Mr. Personality’s lips as his shoulders dropped. The grizzly bear before me let go of his growl.
Relief rolled through me as I smiled toward Mr. Personality. “Thanks for that. I was about—”
“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, his hard tone throwing me for a loop.
“What?”
“Why would you let him harass you like that for the whole day? Then, on top of that, you keep letting these nosy people come to your house and belittle you.”
I stood a bit straighter. “What are you talking about?”
“Every day, these people have been bringing you shit while shitting on you with their backhanded comments. They were pretty much spitting their disrespect straight into your face, and you just allowed it like you don’t have a freaking backbone.”
Wow. Okay. Apparently we were back to the aggressive, rude guy I met in the woods. “It’s really none of your business.”
“If you don’t shut them down right now, they aren’t ever going to pull back on being so aggressive and in your business.”
“And why do you care how people treat me?”
His eyes flashed with a softness, and I swore I saw a person I’d once known. He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged. “I’m just saying. The people in this town are walking trolls. If you have to play the bad guy, take on that role. Don’t stay timid, though. They love to break the timid. They’ll drive you crazy, push you up against a wall, attack you repeatedly until you snap—and believe me, you will snap—and then they’ll ask you why you snapped.”
“You still didn’t answer my question. Why do you care how people treat me?” I asked.
“I don’t,” he harshly muttered, brushing the back of his hand across his forehead. “But you don’t care how they treat you, either. Pretty sure that’s the real problem at hand.”
I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, say I didn’t care a lick what these townspeople thought of me, but the truth was I did care. I wanted them to like me, because more than being bullied, I feared being unloved.
