Page 4 of Big Dog
“Pirate,” I hear Romy say as they pass me on the way to an empty table on the other side of the dance floor.
“Definitely barbarian,” Maya agrees. “No seasickness. Better hygiene because they have fresh water for bathing. And better booze.”
“Wait, barbarians have better booze than pirates? I’m going to need you to cite your source,” Romy says before they move too far away for eavesdropping.
I hope that conversation is a continuation of their book club meeting, but that raises new questions. Does Romy not like boats? Should I have showered after work? Why is Curtis Cort, of Cort Leasing and Real Estate, heading to their table? Deacon and Violet have both mentioned that Romy dealt with a female real estate agent when she bought Camp Sunny-Lu. He can’t have any business with her. Curtis is notorious for hitting on every single woman in a hundred-mile radius. Four divorces later, he must have some initial charm, but it seems to wear off fast.
Curtis chats up all the women, pointing at the band on stage and receiving unanimous head shakes. He says something to Romy. She shakes her head again, and he leans in closer.
Beside me, JD slams his bottle on the table. “Seriously?” he snarls, just before he stands up so quickly that his stool wobbles.
“What?”
“Violet just waved me over.” He stalks over to the table. I follow because I’ve always got my cousin’s back. And because I want to see what shit Romy is stirring up this time.
“You okay, Violet?” he asks, wrapping his arm around Violet’s shoulder.
“I’m fine. Curtis was just offering to show Romy around town. She declined.”
“As I said, thanks but no, Curtis. You have a good night,” Romy says. She watches him walk away until he’s out of sight.
“Can you please not flirt with the local businessmen? It’s going to give you a bad name.” The accusation slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. It’s not like I have any input into who Romy sees. Or does anything else with. “It’ll make things awkward when you need to look for a house or whatever.”
“First of all, fuck you, Bishop. Second, I did not flirt with him,” she insists. Like she isn’t batting her baby blues at every man in the joint.
“It looked like it.”
“Then get your eyes fucking checked.”
“My eyes are fine.”
“Funny, they can’t seem to see the big picture here. This isn’t about me flirting or not flirting with Curtis. The real problem is that you got mad when you thought I was flirting with anybody. In a bar. When I’m out with the girls. Like you have a fucking say.” Romy glares at me. “We’re friends, Bishop. Remember? Nothing more, and if you don’t get your temper leashed, a fuck of a lot less.”
The ice in her voice gives me pause. She’s absolutely right. This is what I said I wanted. I’ll live with it.
My resolution lasts a whole minute before Jules carries over a new tray of drinks. “Don’t worry about it,” the waitress tells JD when he reaches for his wallet. “These are compliments of Jordan, as is the invitation for Romy to join him.”
Everybody at the table turns to stare at the tall, beanpole of a man on the dance floor. He holds out a hand and beckons Romy to join him.
When she laughs, I snap. Curtis Cort doesn’t get that. Neither does Jordan Pratt. Nobody does. But me.
I’ve been living in a world of regret since I told Romy I wasn’t interested. I wasn’t staying there a second longer. We need to come to a new arrangement. “Can we talk?”
“Nope. I’m going to dance,” she says. She stands and turns to the dance floor.
“No, you’re not.” I crouch, catch her waist on my shoulder, and wrap my arms around her legs as I stand straight. She’s yelling her damn head off, but I don’t hesitate.
I hear someone shout, “Barbarian!” as I head for the door.
Chapter Five
Hanging upside down over Bishop’s shoulder, I have a great view of his ass. For the first time ever, I don’t care. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Dobermann?”
“Taking you someplace where you can’t cause any more problems.”
“I wasn’t causing problems. You were. Put me the fuck down.”
He moves like a man on a mission. His long stride eats the pavement as he crosses the bar and grill’s parking lot. “Not until we talk.”
