Page 15 of Snake

The restroom door swung open, and a woman and her young son came in. Autumn smiled at her and got a sneer from the mom in response, but the little boy said, “Hi!” before his mom dragged him into the ADA stall.

Autumn watched the stall door slam before she turned back to the sink and considered herself in the mirror above it. Why was she getting bruised all of a sudden by the contempt of the residents here? They’d been slinging rocks at her since she’d first made an offer on the abandoned machine shop.

Now she finally had the deed to that property and could move forward. Or maybe Chase was right and this project was doomed, even with the property in hand. It beggared her comprehension, but these people seemed dead-set against any kind of real improvements to their community.

No. She was not going to give up. She had a good plan, a good property, and once it was finished, the people here would thank her.

However, she’d been too confident—okay, arrogant—with Cox earlier. Rather than approach the construction contract as a gift she might bestow on Signal Bend Construction and its biker owners, she needed to frame it differently, at least in her own head. She needed SBC to do the build. If the Horde were building, they’d be invested in its success. They’d gathered the town against her; she needed them to swing public opinion the other way.

Alright then. In that case, she’d been approaching Cox all wrong. She’d been matching his hostility, resenting his presence and sending clawed swipes back with each gruff comment. Instead, she needed to approach this as she might if she were interested in him personally. She needed to woo him.

Could a storm cloud like him be wooed? She supposed she’d find out.

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~oOo~

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When Autumn left the restroom, Cox wasn’t at their table—in fact, the table had been cleared and three people were seated there.

Had she run him off?

She cast a glance about the space, looking for their server, wanting to make sure she knew this wasn’t a dine-and-dash situation and the bill would get handled. She didn’t catch sight of the server, but she saw Cox up by the front door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking like a promotional poster for a remake of The Outsiders.

Autumn headed that direction. As she came around the end of the row of booths, she saw his legs—looking long in his faded jeans. They were crossed at the ankles, and she noticed he was wearing scuffed, black cowboy boots. It had to be his posture, that nonchalant lean, but Autumn felt another faint twitch of interest, like when he’d almost smiled at her.

Okay, fine. He was good looking. So what? Nothing about this man should appeal. Not only was he a walking red flag, but he was not remotely her type. She liked educated men with level heads who knew how to dress like grownups and comport themselves in company, not gruff loner bikers with grease under their fingernails.

She wanted to like those men, at least. Her history suggested a different kind of preference—but even then, not bikers.

Clearly, Signal Bend’s chilly reception had bruised her psyche more than she’d realized or was prepared to admit. Maybe it would be a mistake to try to make nice with this man while she was feeling so tender.

No. She had to turn public sentiment toward her favor, and she had an opportunity to make some progress on that front with Cox. At a minimum, she had to stop treating him like an adversary.

So toughen up, honey. Go make nice.

Without shifting position or expression, he watched her approach.

“You waited for me?” she asked.

“Told you: I’m with you or following you tonight. I don’t like following, so I thought I’d give you another chance to choose.”

The words had barbs that hooked in her throat, but she got them out: “You can come with. And I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”

Daniel Cox actually smiled. A real smile. Not big, but authentic. Autumn steeled herself and managed not to care how that curve of his lips changed his entire aspect. She ignored the eye crinkles as well.

“Which time?” he asked, and she’d swear in court there was a faint whisper of amusement in his tone. Neither the smile nor the amusement lasted long; a few seconds later those creases between his brows were back to their full depth. But that moment had been real.

What had changed while she was in the bathroom? Had he given himself a talking-to similar to her own? Why? As far as he was concerned, he gained nothing by being nice to her; his whole club—hell, his whole town—was trying to chase her off. Their relentless distrust of her was the only reason she and Cox were interacting at all.

Deciding it didn’t matter, Autumn smiled herself. “I suppose that’s fair.” She let her apology end there; women apologized too much in general, and she tried to deploy hers judiciously. “Let me get the check, and then we can head out.”

“I got the check.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I can expense it.”

“I got the check,” he repeated, as if it were an end to the topic.

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