Her features screw into utter confusion. “That’s not how it goes.”
“Which is why you’re staying behind.” I tap her on the nose and whirl to survey the weekend crowd.
My hunt begins with a scenic route to the bathroom. Several men glance at me, but quickly avert their stares. I’d be at risk of developing a complex, but my reflection in the mirror clearly reveals I’m in fuckable form.
On my second lap around, I spot a guy who’s practically drooling at me. That’s more like it. I plaster on a coy grin and add more swivel to my strut. He fidgets as I approach, which is endearing. Making people nervous is a guilty pleasure.
I blink at him from hooded eyes, adding a smoky rasp to my voice. “You look lonely.”
He shifts his stance. “Is your name Frankie?”
The seductive pretense drains from my expression. “Have we met?”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” is his muttered reply.
He appears crestfallen, which doesn’t make a lick of sense. I’m practically throwing myself on his lap.
My finger twirls around a curled section of hair. “Is there a problem?”
The guy gives me a lingering once-over. “When you’re available, come find me.” Before I can argue, his towering height disappears in the throng.
A similar pattern forms from that point forward. Whenever I get near someone, they skitter off in a hurry. It’s as if there’s a warning label stuck to my ass. That biker gang might be more problematic than I pegged them for.
The fifth rejection raises a red flag I can’t deny. I tap the closest man on the shoulder. His blatant lust eye-fucks my curves, coasting along my snatched waist and boobs. But the hunger fizzles when his gaze reaches my face.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He stumbles backward.
“Why are you sorry?” I park my hands on my hips.
“You’re not mine to look at. I’m attached to my eyes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The guy takes another step away. “I’ve already done enough.”
Such as test the possessive streak of a certain grumpy cowboy who has no right to make such a claim.
Before he can flee, I snatch his shirt sleeve. “Did Byron Benson tell you to leave me alone?”
His gulp is audible. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”
I release him, getting the dirt I need. That traitor thinks he can put a chastity belt on me. If he believes that’s wise for our revenge plot, he’s got another thing coming.
My boots cut a direct path to where Paisley and Gemma are watching me strike out. “This place is a bust. Let’s go to the next town over.”
“Why?” But Paisley is already grabbing her stuff to dutifully follow my lead.
“I’m revved up and he’s pressing all the wrong buttons.”
Gemma tips her head at an angle that reminds me of Ronnie. “Huh?”
But now isn’t the time to get distracted.
“Change of scenery. Fresh meat. Escape the rumor mill.” And Byron’s jurisdiction.
I keep that last one to myself. Don’t need anyone else fleeing the scene. Not until the deed is done.
Soon enough, Byron will realize this bitch always gets her itch scratched.