Page 3 of Fastlander Fighter

Him. She was staring at him.

“Me?” Captain asked. “Why am I a dick?”

“Whatever you did to that woman, you’re a dick for it.”

“What woman?” he demanded.

Hallie rolled her eyes and made a chh sound behind her teeth, then turned back around and began to take the next order.

Captain stared at the back of her head for a two-count, then shook his head and returned to chopping the brisket he’d just removed from the smoker. Women were crazy.

But for real, what woman was she talking about?

Captain frowned down at his work. Hallie had been fine until he’d brought the mud pies for her customer, which, by the way, wasn’t even his fuckin’ job. He’d just heard a woman order two of them and thought it was cool that a woman had an appetite like that, and he’d brought it to her out of the fridge so Hallie didn’t have to go get it, because he was a freakin’ nice guy. Fuck Hallie. She was probably on her period or something.

But for real…what woman?

He wiped the long blade of his knife off on a rag, glaring at the back of Hallie’s head. “The lady with the mud pies?” he asked.

It was Corey who was glaring at him with her rude little scrunched-up face from over at her own cash register. “You don’t even remember her, do you?”

“What in the ever-loving fuck are you two going on about? I didn’t do anything.”

Corey’s face went slack, and she looked at him with an exhausted expression.

“Today,” he amended. “I haven’t done anything bad all day. I can’t get in trouble if I’m not doing anything bad.”

“How many hearts have you broken this month, Captain?” Hallie asked.

“None! I’ve been too busy fighting your fuckin’ mates to hunt for a mate of my own, so zero. I have broken exactly zero hearts!”

“This month,” Corey murmured.

“Mmm-hmm,” Hallie said.

“I hate working with you two,” he muttered, and went back to chopping brisket. When he finished, he pulled a foil-wrapped rack of ribs onto the cutting board and flicked the foil open with the tip of his chopping knife. “You know, there should be rules against this,” he told the girls. “I am over here feeling guilty over something, and I don’t even know what you two are talking about.”

“Table seven, dickshit,” Hallie blurted out.

“It’s dipshit!” He shoved the knife back in the slot where it belonged and jammed a finger at Shane, then at the ribs. “Finish this up. I’m taking a break.”

“You mess with her, I’ll gut you,” Hallie called as he pulled at the tie of his apron and made his way through the dining room toward the outside-seating patio. Table seven was around the corner and against the wall. Hardly anyone ever sat there because it was right by the trash cans, was high traffic and sequestered away from the other tables, and had the worst views of the forest surrounding Moosey’s.

Good and pissed off, he rounded the corner and spotted the woman eating at table seven. He came to a stop and studied her.

She wore her dark hair in two little French braids along the crown of her head, and then had long curls cascading down her shoulders. She had blonde highlights in her dark hair. Looked cool. Her cheekbones were sharp, and she had thin lips, and bright blue eyes. She was petite, even for a human. Five foot even, maybe, if she stood up. She was staring at the wall across from the seat she’d taken, which meant she preferred that view over the gorgeous forest that was partially visible if she’d only sat across the table on the other side.

Captain frowned. She did look sort of familiar.

He scratched the back of his head and checked to see if Hallie and Corey were watching him. They were. Annoying. He made his way to table seven. The woman glanced over at him, and then quickly down at her food. He hadn’t missed it though. There was a flash of mortification there in her bright-blue eyes.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

She slipped her hand over her mouth and shook her head, eased her blue gaze up to him. After a couple seconds, she removed her hand and said, “Mister, I don’t even know me. I don’t blame you for not remembering.”

Fuck. He must’ve known her then. Confused, he slid onto the bench seat across from her and studied her face.

She was a looker. Tired, though. She had bags under her eyes, and her nose was red like she’d been crying or something. Unsure of how to proceed, he offered his hand for a shake. “I’m Captain.”

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