Outnumbered No More
Griff
Next to me, Maisie felt soft and sweet, but she wasn't relaxed. Not yet . I could feel it in her shoulders and see it in her profile as she faced off against two people she obviously knew.
It was hard to say which one she knew better – the chatty girl or the silent guy. Either way, she had been far too outnumbered for my liking.
Not anymore.
I locked eyes with Mister Quiet. "So tell me. What's your story?"
I hadn't planned on stepping in. I'd been in the back, stacking tools and minding my own business – until I'd caught bits of conversation that had made me stop and listen.
What I'd heard hadn't given me the full picture. But it had given me enough to know that Maisie was being cornered by somebody with an axe to grind – a female somebody with more contempt than class.
I hadn't liked it.
But I hadn't wanted to overstep – not until I'd cracked open the door and saw that Maisie was outnumbered two to one. And one of them was a guy.
The dude – whoever the hell he was – hadn't said a damn word the entire time. He'd just stood there, letting his girl do the talking for him, like a silent prop in a store window.
And now he was staring like I was the one with the problem.
Yeah, I had a problem, alright. And I was looking at him. It didn't take a genius to know that whatever this was, the guy was in on it. And let's say he wasn't. Him just standing there had made him complicit.
The guy gave a hard blink. "What kind of story?"
Dumbass. Still, I kept my posture easy. "You pick."
"What?"
I gave him a moment to grow a spine before asking, "You got something to say?"
His brows tugged together like he'd been hit with a pop quiz in a language he didn't speak. "Uh...no?"
Figures.
I studied him for a beat. "So you're just here for the show?"
"What?" He tried for a laugh. "There's no show. I don't know what you mean."
Bullshit. "Is that so?'
He didn't answer. But judging from his expression, he knew exactly what I meant.
I waited. Then say something, asshole.
Or at the very least, the guy could have the decency to step up for the woman he'd come in with – if only to spare Maisie from whatever showdown these two dipshits had hatched between them.
But the guy didn't step up. He just stood there, doing his best impression of a coat rack with better hair.
I kept waiting, aware of Maisie nestled against me, nice and tight, as if we had something real. I was liking it more than I should have – even when she surprised the hell out of me by blurting out, "Oh, my God!"
We all looked.
With her free hand, Maisie pointed at the blonde. "Sierra."
The blonde froze in mid-smirk. "What?"
Maisie gave a little laugh. "That's your name."
Through gritted teeth, the blonde said, "I know it's my name."
"Yeah, but I didn't," Maisie said.
"Oh, please." The blonde gave a toss of her hair. "Like I'm gonna fall for that one." Her tone was confident, but her eyes weren't so sure.
I spoke up. "So you're calling my girl a liar?"
The blonde – aka Sierra – looked seriously miffed. "I never said that. I'm just finding it hard to believe that she forgot me so fast."
Maisie made a scoffing sound. "I didn't forget you . I just forgot your name."
"Oh, really?" Sierra smirked. "Fine. I'll play along. What did you think it was?"
"Ummm…" Maisie winced. "Centipede?"'
A silence fell. Somewhere outside, a bicycle bell gave a cheerful little ding.
But here in the shop, the silence held until the blonde started to sputter. "Are you freaking serious?"
"Hey, it wasn't my first guess," Maisie said. "I had other ones, too."
"Oh, I bet," Sierra said, hoisting her purse higher on her shoulder. "Anyway, we should probably get going."
I looked to the guy. "Yeah. You should." And don't let the door hit you on the ass.
A moment later, they were gone. No fuss. No muss. No further drama. But if I were a betting man, I'd put serious money on them coming back.
And for some reason, I didn't like it.