Page 10 of Landlord Daddy's Girl

“You’ll have to forgive her,” Sierra says. “She’s a bit of a stalker with boundary issues.”

“Nothing wrong with checking out the man who wants to bang my best friend,” Moni replies with a shrug.

Sierra squeals and slaps her friend’s arm as her face turns bright red. She quickly buries her face in her hands and looks as if shewants to crawl into a hole right then and there. It’s absolutely adorable.

“I have nothing but honorable intentions,” I tell Moni.

“That’s a shame,” she replies, drawing another mortified squeak from Sierra.

Laughing, I walk to the other end of the bar, where a couple is calling my name. As much as I like to stand there talking to Sierra, I still have a job to do. The couple I’m talking to follow me on social media, so I chat them up as I make their drinks, ensuring they’re having a good time. I steal a glance over at Sierra and frown when I see a man I don’t know sidling up beside her at the bar. He says something he obviously thinks is witty, but the look on Sierra and Moni’s face tells me his presence is unwelcome. They move down a few stools, not being subtle about wanting him to leave them alone, but he follows, continuing to pester them.

Seeing him talking to Sierra in the first place irritates me. But the fact that he’s following her around when she’s made it clear she doesn’t want his attention infuriates me. I turn to the couple I’ve been talking to.

“Excuse me,” I say through gritted teeth.

Walking around the bar, I make my way over to where Sierra and Moni are sitting, my eyes fixed on the guy hovering over her. Sierra is shrinking back, and there’s fear blended with the irritation on her face. Moni has her hand on the guy’s shoulder, trying to push him back.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” the guy says.

“Get away from us,” Moni growls. “We’re not interested.”

“I’m trying to talk to her,” the guy replies, “not you.”

“Time for you to go. We don’t tolerate dudes who harass women. Not in this bar,” I say, my voice low and menacing.

The guy turns to me with a cocky sneer on his face. He’s about my height but looks like an irritating, frat boy who relies on his size to intimidate people. I’d bet everything I have this little bitch has never actually been in a fight. Unfortunately for him, I have. Unlike him, I don’t rely on my size and know how to handle myself.

“Why don’t you get back behind the bar and make your little drinks?” the guy says. “I’m talking to the lady here.”

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to talk to you,” I reply.

He squares up to me, that cocky smirk curling his lips. He’s doing his best to hide behind a mask of swagger and bravado, but he can’t hide the fear in his eyes.

“You should mind your own business, bud,” he says.

“My bar. My business,” I reply. “And I say it’s time for you to go.”

“And if I don’t?”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Do you really want me to embarrass you in front of all these people?”

“Go sling your drinks and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Like I said, my bar, my business,” I say. “You’re making this woman uncomfortable, and I’m not going to tolerate you harassing her. Not in my bar.”

Like the little bitch that he is, the dude throws a punch when he thinks I’m not ready for it. Unfortunately for him, I am. Iblock the punch with minimal effort, then reach back and drive my fist into his face. His nose crumples beneath my fist with a satisfying crack as his head snaps back, and he screeches in pain. A collective gasp sounds in the bar as all eyes turn our way, morbid fascination on everybody’s faces.

As he continues to squeal, blood oozes from between his fingers, crimson droplets spattering his shirt. The guy cups his hands over his nose, tears spilling down his face, and he howls something that sounds kind of like, “You broke my nose.” But it’s so garbled I can’t understand what he’s actually saying. It doesn’t matter, though. He’s done.

The bar is absolutely silent as I grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag him to the door. Using my shoulder, I nudge the door open and throw him out. The guy lands on the sidewalk, butt first, with a loud grunt. Blood streams down his nose, and he looks at me through red, watering eyes.

“Don’t come back in here,” I say. “Ever.”

Turning around, I let the door close behind me, and the bar erupts in applause. I give them all a wave as I make my way back over to Sierra.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She looks at me, her eyes filled with gratitude and something close to awe. “I am now. Thank you for?—”

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