Page 23 of Ruthless Son

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kannon.” He grunted in response, his scowl a contrast to Rex’s grin.

“Ignore him, princess, he’s a miserable son of a bitch.” Kannon’s glare could cut through glass, his dark eyes piercing Rex with a crazy light. If I’d met this guy in a dark alleyway, I think I’d run in the opposite direction.

I handed him the finished bouquet, and without even a thanks, he threw a fifty on the counter and stormed out, the flowers clutched tightly in his fist.

“Well, that was interesting,”

“Verrry interesting,” Margot chimed in cattily, back in her seat now.

Rex watched me warily. “What? Do you need a bunch too?” I asked, hoping for one answer, but nervously waiting for him to respond.

“Sure, uh, roses. The blue ones.” That was easy enough, everyone knew what roses looked like. I plucked a dozen of the long stems from their bucket and wrapped them, childishly refusing to de-thorn them in an attempt to vindictively hurt the woman he was buying them for.

It was pathetic, I know. But I gained a small amount of satisfaction when I wrapped them up and felt the sharp points within. I smiled coldly at him, his mirth shining back as he grabbed the bunch from me from high up, trying to avoid the stabbing thorns.

“That’s a lot of Band-Aids, princess.” He nodded toward my fingers, all wrapped up and aching from the manual labor I’d been forced into. “I would have thought with all those English boys you’d be used to little pricks.” He threw his head back, roaring with laughter at his own joke, and I couldn’t help the twitch of my lips as I watched him wipe the corner of his eyes. Laugh lines fanned out beside his eyes, a testament to a life filled with love.

But still, pettiness refused to let me laugh along with him, he still held flowers for another woman in his hand. Not to mention all of the little digs about English men that were starting to piss me off. “You seem to have a thing against English men.”

His smile seemed to widen even more and he leaned his hip against the counter, leaning down until our gazes were even. “Baby, they can’t handle a woman like you. You need a real man.” His muscles flexed beneath his shirt, but I couldn’t tell if he was still joking with that smile that showed off his perfect teeth.

“Clearly you’ve never heard of Vinnie Jones, England’s ‘hard man’, he is definitely a real man, and anyway, a ‘real man’ wouldn’t brag about being one,” I responded cheekily.

“Never heard of him, doesn’t say much about him then, does it.”

“He was a famous footballer and now an actor. I can’t believe you’ve never heard of him!” I threw my hand to my chest in mock affront, playing along with his macho persona.

His face softened, his smile growing warmer as I kept up with him jab for jab, Margot forgotten in her own little corner.

“Now, that’s the look I want to see on your face, princess.” Our laughter trailed off, his stare felt like all the air had been sucked from around us, there was just a trail of heat between us that grew hotter the longer we watched each other, our only obstacle the counter between us. I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn't been there.

A lump in my throat formed, for a minute I forgot why he was here, but his stance shifted and the rustle of the bouquet in his hand was a reminder that he wasn’t here for me. I looked at the bunch with disdain, hating the reason he stepped foot in the shop to begin with.

His eyes followed mine to where I glared at his hand, and the infuriating man smiled at me. “You should always have a smile on your face, Mia.” His hand stretched across, holding the flowers toward me. “Mind the thorns,” he whispered, his eyes dancing as my mouth fell open. Carefully, I reached out and grasped them just below his own hand, making sure I deliberately brushed my fingers against his.

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment, he knew why I didn’t trim the thorns, yet he didn’t say anything. “Did you order these for me? The whole time?” His smug grin was pure satisfaction as I inhaled the fragrant blooms, pleasure warming me from the inside.

“They’ve always been for you. And blue because one, I have no fucking idea what your favorite color is and two, they’re different, unusual. You can’t find them in nature… a bit like you. You ain’t homegrown, princess… but you’re growing on me… no pun intended.”

That warmth in my chest grew to an unimaginable heat. His kind act had put a smile on my tired face and he’d laughed in the face of my jealous act, because it didn’t bother him. The man was an enigma. Yesterday, he had seemed more interested in finding the man who hurt me for his own purpose and now, here he was, buying me flowers and making me laugh simply because I needed it.

“You still have to pay, that’s $62.” Margot burst the bubble that we had erected around us, her interruption fracturing the tension and letting me take a much needed breath.

“It says $50 for 12 on your sign,” Rex argued back.

“Yeah, well. Inflation.” The old woman held her withered hand out for the cash, and I felt embarrassed on his behalf. She had been so rude to the two men, and for what reason other than they rode motorbikes? Had tattoos? I couldn’t figure her out.

Rex dug into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing over the money, a shared smile between us easing the burn of awkwardness her brash behavior created. “It’s ok, Margot. It’s worth it.” He winked, ignoring her foul attitude.

She huffed and shuffled away, calling out that we were about to close.

“God, I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know why she was so rude to you,” I muttered low enough so she couldn't hear and swept my hair back in frustration.

“Don’t worry, Margot, I’m leaving,” he called out to her, before leaning closer, his eyes shining as if he had a secret. “She only hates us because my grandaddy wouldn’t marry her. He wanted to be a biker instead, so now she hates all of us because we corrupted her poor sweet Virgil… even though I wasn’t even alive then. But hey, her hatred isn’t anything new to us, so don’t feel bad on her behalf.” Rex straightened to his full height. “And you don’t have to worry about that problem anymore.” He touched the dark skin around my eye, the bruise prominent without makeup to hide it. His smile still warmed his face, but for just a second, the mask slipped. Cold flashed through his blue eyes, but I knew it wasn’t aimed at me. “You and your sister don’t have to worry about Mickey hurting you.”

The ominous tone sent a flash of fear through me—for Mickey. I wasn’t scared of Rex despite his size and obvious means to protect himself. But had I, in my ultimate wisdom, gotten a man hurt? I had told Rex about our issue with him and what he did to me. When I became a nurse, I took an oath to do no harm, and that meant indirectly too.

As Rex turned and walked away, the door closing behind his large frame, I wondered if I had made a mistake in asking him to deal with our Mickey problem… though with his satisfied smile, perhaps it was already too late to worry about.

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