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Despite the unfriendliness of the environment, I let out a deep breath and forge ahead, making my way inside the store.
The scent of stale beer and tobacco teases my nostrils, forcing me to hold my breath as my lungs adjust. My eyes sporadically roam around the dimly lit space, avoiding the gaze of a few unsavory-looking people lurking between the aisles. I reach the store’s liquor section and stand at the counter, waiting for an attendant.
Soon, a woman strolls out from the shadows, streaks of purple hair mixed with black swaying behind her.
"Can I help you with something?" she asks from behind her glass partition, the sound of boredom permeating her voice.
I gesture to the expensive bourbon that catches my eye. "I'll take that one."
The woman eyes me up and down, sizing me up like a piece of meat before finding the key to unlock the cabinet. I can't help but notice how the drowsy look on her face morphs into something else entirely once she turns her gaze back to me.
With a flirtatious smile, she practically purrs and asks, "Are you drinking alone? Would you like some company tonight?”
I'm no stranger to women hitting on me. Being a handsome billionaire does bring me much attention. However, since my divorce, my focus has been on my business and my daughter.
"No, thanks," I say.
She rolls her eyes and hands me the bottle. I head to the main cashier and pay for my purchases. By the time I reach the parking lot, I’m ready to get the hell out of this area and home to my comfortable wing chair by the gas fireplace.
As I walk to my car, I hear a commotion from the other side of the parking lot. My gaze shifts in that direction, and I see a young woman trying to get her car started. A disheveled man is hovering nearby, and it's obvious he's been harassing her. He's wearing a beanie cap and ripped joggers. The glint in his eyes as he looks at the woman tells me he has only the worst intentions.
"Hey," I call out as I approach them. "Is there a problem here?"
The man replies, slurring his words, "Hey man, I'm just trying to help this pretty lady with her car."
"I don't need your help," she says, eyeing him warily.
"That's what all the ladies say, but once they let Ole Johnny help them, they change their minds."
The man staggers towards her. She yelps and jumps back.
I step in between them. "I think it's time for you to go," I say firmly.
The man backs away and narrows his eyes. "What are you going to do if I don't?"
"You want to visit the county hospital?" I ask, my voice low and intense.
"I don't need this shit. I can get hotter action from plenty of women."
"I doubt that," I say.
He quickly shuffles away, muttering curses under his breath.
Turning to the woman, I ask if she needs help with her car.
She nods and says, "Yeah, it won't start. It was working fine earlier." She hedges a bit. "Well, not really, but it was running."
"I'll take a look."
The woman looks at me gratefully, though there's a hint of fear still in her eyes. "Thanks," she says.
She has blonde hair that falls to her shoulders in soft waves. Her skin is flawless and has a warm sun-kissed hue. She has a petite frame and curves in all the right places. Her lips are full and pink, just begging to be kissed.
I can feel my heart pounding, and I tell myself to focus on the car, not a woman who is probably fifteen years younger than me.
I lean over and carefully inspect the engine. My brothers and I might have been raised in luxury, but we all love cars. We don't just buy them. We like getting our hands dirty. I've restored several over the years.
I poke around under the hood of the battered car before closing the hood and wiping my hands on the slacks of my suit.
