Page 47 of Panther's Magpie
The corner of his mouth twitches. “The boys have it under control.”
“Right.”
“Okay, fine. I didn’t like you being out here alone,” he admits.
“I’m not completely alone.” I let my eyes stray to the man at the gate.
He’s a quiet one. Keeps to himself so much so that I haven’t really gotten to know him like the others, but I still trust him to keep me safe.
“The prospect at the gate doesn’t count,” he says as if reading my mind.
“If you say so,” I tease.
“So, what are you doing out here?” he asks again.
“Just hanging out.”
Panther hums but doesn’t say anything.
I thought I wanted to be alone earlier, but I’m realizing now that it’s the last thing I needed. Just having him next to me, sitting in silence, I feel better than I did before.
Maybe this is what I needed. Maybe this is what I’ve always needed. Panther showed up for me even when I didn’t know I needed it. Hell, he doesn’t even realize what he’s done for me himself.
“So, you missed it. Rain threw a drink at a dude. I thought an all-out bar fight was going to happen,” he finally says, breaking the silence.
“Wait, what?” I ask as I shake my head.
“You heard me.”
I squint my eyes. “But why?”
“The guy slapped her ass while she was carrying a tray of empty glasses back to the kitchen.” He smiles.
“That was ballsy,” I admit, thinking about Rain.
Yeah, she’s the type that would start a brawl over that shit.
He chuckles. “That’s what I said.”
“What happened to the guy?” My mind drifts to the books I’ve read where the men would murder for something as silly as that.
“Kicked him out. Told him he wasn’t ever welcome back.” He says it so nonchalantly that it surprises me.
“Does that really work, though? Banning people, I mean,” I ask.
He shrugs. “The guy was a tourist. I’m not too worried about it.”
“And to think, you left all that excitement to come hang out with little ol’ me.”
“Let’s be real, someone has to keep an eye on you with all the mischief you cause. Who knows what you would do if left alone for five minutes?” he teases, making me laugh.
“Please, I’m fucking boring compared to most.”
“You? Boring?” he scoffs. “That’s not the word to describe you.”
What word would you use?
Before I can muster up the courage to ask, he changes the subject.
