Page 35 of The Rogue and His Flower

You know if you’re trying to piss me off, you’re doing an excellent job at it.

Kudos to me, I suppose. Daisy one, Dalton Nil.

Daisy!

You are my fiance, and you should not be there alone.

I roll my eyes at that.Asshat.

In fact you shouldn’t be there at all!

This man is a nightmare.

Daisy, so help me. Get your arse home NOW!

I read his last message and let out a frustrated laugh. Who the hell does he think he is, and what exactly does he think is going to happen? I’ve been coming to Bandits Bar ever since I was old enough to drink, and it’s not as if I can’t handle myself.

“What a jerk!” I exclaim, dropping my phone back into my bag, my attention drawn to someone standing to my left. I slowly look upwards, taking in a pair of light denim jeans and a smart blue shirt, before settling on a pair of dark brown eyes set in a handsome face.

“Is this seat taken?” the man asks as one of his friends gathered at the bar hollers something provocative.

I raise a brow.

“Sorry about them, stag do. My friends are a little drunk.”

“I figured.”

“So, can I sit?” he asks, pointing to the seat opposite me.

“There are plenty of other seats available,” I point out.

He shuffles on his feet. “Yeah, I know, but I saw you sitting alone and I thought, maybe…”

“I’d want company?” I fill in, arching a brow.

“Honestly, I could use a break from them,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re on a bar crawl. It’s already been a long day, and the way these guys are going, an even longer night.”

I chew on my lip, unsure whether I want to engage in conversation with a stranger, but there is an earnestness in his eyes that makes me feel sympathetic towards him. Besides, I’m only staying until my drink is finished. What possible harm could it be?

“Sure, why not,” I find myself saying.

He smiles gratefully and sits, glancing over at his friends who are currently shouting orders at Ben. “So who’s the groom?” I ask.

“Steven, the one wearing the knob hat,” the guy explains.

“Of course he is, and what’s your name?”

“Paul.”

“I’m Daisy,” I reply, offering my hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Daisy,” he replies, his hand holding onto mine a little longer than necessary. I give him a tight smile before pulling my hand back.

“Do you live around here?” he asks, leaning forward, his arms pressing against the table as his legs stretch out beneath it.

“I do, and the bar owner over there,” I say, pointing to Ben, “Is my friend.”

Paul nods, his gaze coasting over to the bar and Ben trying to manage his rowdy friends. “What do you do for a living?”

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