Chapter 7
Montgomery
I wasn’t used to women challenging me, certainly not in the way Fleur had done now on several occasions.
The fact that she intrigued me wasn’t something I would allow anyone else to know, but everything about her was refreshing.
She’d refused to allow me to take control of the conversation in any way.
Being inside her store had certainly told me a lot about her personality, much like her attire, an eclectic mix indicating she had no issue with defying rules.
Another plus in my mind. She hadn’t minded belittling me in front of her customers, although she’d done so in a calculating manner indicating her impressive intelligence.
At this point, I’d call her the bane of my existence.
Maybe that was being somewhat harsh except even when chastising me, she always had a damn smile that seemed permanently etched in her face.
The bastard inside of me wanted to burst her bubble; there were some terrible people in society willing and completely eager to destroy her happy go lucky outlook on the world.
There were precious few who ever stood up to me, including my own Capo. That’s why her attitude had shifted me off kilter, shaking my pristine world.
Even now, as I sat inside the very vehicle she’d made fun of the day before, wearing a jacket I’d never need again after leaving Vermont, staring at the sign for the Wildwood Bar, I was curious if not eager to see her again.
All the sass. All the flips of her hair and the rolls of her eyes had kept me fully aroused.
Enough I’d almost made good on my desire to spank her. She certainly deserved a harsh round of punishment after what she’d spit out at me.
Then she’d had to toss in empathy if not full-blown sympathy. Look at the crippled man trying to get out the door.
The illusion of my attraction to her had been shattered. Even though I’d gathered a sense she actually cared about what I’d endured.
Everything about her continued to infuriate me yet I’d purposely sought her out, determined to locate her shop. There’d been no reason to do it, certainly not only hours later, but I’d been unable to do any work. None.
Every thought had drifted to her, images of her high cheekbones and the sly smile when she thought no one was paying any attention.
After seeing her with the older woman, hearing the compassion in Fleur’s voice had kept my attention.
Even over the chattering of customers who’d been nothing but annoying.
Why the hell was I sitting in a parking lot, able to hear some country song from inside? I had no answer except I had a craving to see how she’d handle herself in a social situation. Would she still be a ballbuster or would she tone it down and simply enjoy herself?
Maybe I was curious how she’d interact with her friends. Then again, something had stirred inside indicating I had no desire to see her being touched by another man.
Where in the hell had that come from?
Of course, I was a possessive man. Every male of the Prince family had been taught through example that we were allowed to take what we wanted. Maybe that had been the problem in my life and the reason I’d never had a successful relationship.
Well, that wasn’t going to change because I’d met a feisty redhead with an utter hatred of me. But… I rubbed my jaw as a smile slid across my face. I would certainly enjoy experiencing her spunk when screaming out my name while I was fucking her.
Laughing softly, I climbed out, still marveling at the crisp air, still surprised that I’d been in the tiny town one day and I’d smiled more than I had in months.
Maybe clear air was what I’d needed all along. I debated grabbing the cane, deciding to ignore the deep throb. I didn’t come here to dance. I’d hang out at the bar and enjoy some local entertainment while drinking shitty whiskey.
As soon as I walked inside, it was a complete contrast to the peaceful silence earlier.
The crowd was already rowdy and it was not yet nine in the evening, barely dinnertime in N’Awlins.
The lights were garish, flashing neon merged with disco strobe lights.
The decorations were something straight out of an old western movie colliding with Urban Cowboy.
While there were the typical pool tables and dartboards on one side so the beer-slugging dudes could boost their testosterone, the most annoying aspect of the bar was the mechanical bull as a centerpiece for one of several rooms, all with wide open doorways.
You had to be fucking kidding me. A mechanical bull.
I shook my head, fighting my way through a crowd of dudes in Wrangler jeans while heading to the bar.
Maybe I looked the part enough to be left alone.
Thankfully, I found a barstool. After dragging off my coat and hanging it over the hard back, I slid onto the wooden seat, immediately scanning the perimeter.
A pang of disappointment also surprised the hell out of me.
“A newcomer. You a tourist?”
When anyone interrupted me, including when I was thinking, or in this case lamenting over a woman I had no business getting to know, I was generally an asshole. “None of your business.” Apparently, that wasn’t going to change today.
“Whoa, dude. Sorry I asked. Just trying to be friendly. What will you have?”
I took a deep breath before biting his head off again. Somewhere under the pain and continued twisted anger was a man who’d been taught manners. “Whiskey neat.”
“Any particular brand?’ The arrogance in his tone was a clear indication he’d seen right through me.
Lifting my head, I stared him directly in the eyes. Making enemies on my first day wasn’t anything I wanted either. “Whatever you recommend. I trust you.”
At least that seemed to appease the man, enough he rapped on the bar and I was rewarded with a smile. Not that I cared.
I continued glancing around the bar as he pulled a bottle from the glass shelf.
Within seconds, I had the drink in front of me, instantly wrapping my hand around the dense, cheap tumbler.
Over the roar of the music and the din of hundreds of conversations, I’d barely had a sip when I heard laughter.
Female laughter.
Instantly, my balls tightened and with a single lift of my head, I knew where the sound was coming from. Across the way in one of the cordoned-off rooms was a group of women. They were sitting side by side around a huge round table, garish pink neon lights twinkling just above their heads.
With a direct line of sight and the crowd mostly positioned around the outer walls, there was no hindrance in seeing the women.
They were clearly having a good time, the table littered with colorful foil bags and several empty glasses.
Only where the other women were chatting and laughing, Fleur sat, her expression reading dispassion or possibly something even darker.
My thoughts drifted to what she’d said while dropping off the muffins. Something about the day being terrible for her. With my warped mind, I was more than interested in finding out what that might entail.
It was none of my business of course, but when had that ever stopped me?
Every minute or two, one of the other girls attempted to engage her in conversation. From what I could tell, she was offering one-word answers, casually sipping a glass of red wine instead of the festive concoctions the others were consuming.
A waiter appeared a few seconds later, flirting with every girl with unabashed attention. Another wave of possession pushed me to an edge I wasn’t used to being on. My control was notable, including all aspects of business, but I wasn’t in a position to demand anything, even if I so desired.
However, that didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in trying. I was a man after all.
I took another swig, swiveling my chair so I could continue observing the beautiful redhead. She checked her watch, perhaps being polite in wondering how long she’d need to remain. When someone wasn’t interested in a bridal shower, that usually meant they’d been jilted before.
Or perhaps it had been the reason for a breakup.
Every story I concocted in my mind presented itself with another wave of desire to unfurl her secrets.
Three women stood and I shook my head, seeing one was wearing a sash as if prom queen. Was that what women were into? I literally had no idea.
I’d be damned if they weren’t headed for the mechanical bull. Now this I had to see.
“Crazy, huh?” the bartender asked.
“Which part?”
He automatically refilled my glass, nodding toward the bull while a small crowd gathered.
“That piece of shit has been around for two decades. No one rides the damn thing. I keep telling the owner to get rid of it. We need the real estate. He refuses. He calls it free entertainment. Those girls are going to get hurt.”
“Hopefully, one of them knows what she’s doing.”
“See the redhead over there?” He pointed and I followed his line of sight.
Fleur had finally stood, making her way to where the others stood surrounding the bull. “Yeah, I see her.”
“Not only is she a real looker, but she also can handle that bull better than any cowboy I’ve ever met.” He leaned over the bar as if the two of us were going to be friends. I hated to break it to him, but the friends I had were of an entirely different nature, men trained and eager to kill.
“Oh, yeah?” I mused simply to be polite, bringing the rim to my lips.
Tonight she was wearing a dress, violet in color, the vibrancy setting her apart from the others.
Whereas the skirt worn earlier had been gauzy, hiding every inch of her, the material kissed every rounded curve as if made for her.
She was positively stunning and I had a feeling she didn’t know how much of an effect she had on almost every man in the establishment, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who either flaunted or used her beauty.