Never mind. It doesn’t matter. He will never take me alive. Or dead.
I laugh awkwardly and grasp at the edge of my confidence. “Obviously you don’t understand my irritable bowel like I do. One wrong move, and I can clear this place faster than a pandemic.”
I make a little explosion noise paired with the appropriate hand gesture.
The iciness disappears from his eyes, and it’s replaced with a look of utter horror.
Mission accomplished.
Chapter 2
Michael
“Fifty bucks says you can’t get her number.” My brother Sean interrupts my very slow and deliberate process of perusing the bar menu.
I frown and tap my ear.
He rolls his eyes. “It's notthatloud in here. You heard me.”
I did. I was just hoping he'd change his comment the second time around.
“I was using the grinder all day, I can barely hear anything." I rub my ear just to prove my point.
“Liar. Can you do it or not?”
I drag my attention to the woman in the corner. Her hair is a dark brown, and it’s so long it almost reaches the seat of her chair. She’s tempting, but—
“She’s got a date.” Those ones are off-limits. Though it never seems to stop Sean.
“Not for long.” He motions her way again, and I check out the couple, watching their interaction. I was wrong. She’s not on a date. She’s in misery, and this guy has no clue.
Hmmm.She needs a superhero, and after completing the Blanding job all by myself today, I do happen to be feeling a little awesome.
“Fine.” I skirt around a group of giggling girls and head for the table.
The girl says something I can’t hear, but her eyes read like a newspaper. She’s anxious, ready to bolt, but the guy looks like he’d chase after her.
I slow my steps, waiting for an opening, when the guy’s smile morphs into a look of disgust, and he bolts from his seat.
This will be easier than I thought.
I saunter toward the table on my metaphorical white horse. “Well, I was coming to save you, but I guess you didn’t need a Prince Charming after all.”
The girl sits up straighter, herback stiff and unwelcoming, and then slowly her head swivels in my direction.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry.” I plopinto the now vacant chair. “I spotted that jerk a mile away and thought I’d
intervene.”
I expect her to smile, bat her eyelashes, reward me with a song of praise even, but I get the exact opposite. Her tiny nose scrunches, pushing her glasses into her eyebrows. I never thought glasses could be so cute.
“I don’t need your help, nor do I want it. I’m capable of removing unwanted jerks from my life.” She scoots her chair back so fast it tips over, but it hardly makes a sound in this loud bar.
I shake my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. It's possible I came off a tad overconfident.
