Page 13 of Love and Pancakes (Rockland Falls 1)

The redhead’s eyebrow shoots upward before she gives me a smug grin. “I just bet you are,” she teases, a wide smile playing on her plump red lips, revealing straight white teeth.

“Rhenn,” I announce, holding out my hand.

“Harper,” she replies, placing her slender, soft hand in my own and giving it a gentle shake. Even though she’s gorgeous with a capital G, I feel absolutely nothing when we touch.

Pity.

“And I’m Free,” the friend states, her bangle bracelets jingling as she reaches around Harper and offers me her hand.

“Free?”

“Short for Freedom, love. Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you ring my bell,” she adds boldly, a playful gleam in her dark eyes. Even though her come-on is written in Sharpie marker, it’s as fake as they come. She might be toying with me, but she’s not really hitting on me.

“Something tells me I’d be way out of my league with you, Free,” I reply, tipping my beer bottle back once more.

“I don’t doubt it, love,” she says, reaching around her friend and taking a handful of the popcorn in front of me. “So, what brings you to town?”

“Work.”

“Of course,” Free says. “What is it? Freelance journalism or espionage?”

Leaning closer to Harper, I catch a subtle trace of something sweet, with a hint of floral. I’ll give it to her: she’s gorgeous and smells good. But before I can even consider the other places that Harper might smell good, a certain blonde with dirty smudges on her lightly freckled cheeks filters through my mind. I caught several whiffs of Marissa earlier, and it was enough to drive a sober man to drink. She’s like a rain shower after a long drought. She’s pure temptation, which is why I’m here, trying to find a little mindless distraction.

It’s also not working out for me.

While both Harper and Free are beautiful in their own unique ways, I can tell already that it’s not happening. Harper looks about as interested in me as she does with the old man down at the opposite end of the bar, which is a shame, really, because she’s stunning and spunky – a combination that usually gets my blood flowing south of the belt line and ensures a damn good time between the sheets. Free, on the other hand, while definitely a bit more flirty, but in that ‘friend zone’ way.

I hate that fucking zone.

I’m sure with a little bit of work and a little extra Rhenn Burleski charm, I could have her in my bed tonight, but that familiar desire to chase just isn’t present. Why? No fucking clue, but I have a feeling it has something to do with those damn freckles I was thinking about earlier.

My mind falls back to the women before me, and I have to think hard to recall Free’s question. “Espionage. Definitely espionage,” I reply, leaning forward so that I’m super close to Harper. “But don’t tell anyone, all right?”

Free leans just as close to her friend, her eyes squinting under the fluorescent lighting. “Or you’d have to kill me?”

“’Fraid so, Free. And I’d hate to have to kill two beautiful women such as yourselves.”

Harper snorts and takes a drink of her beer. “Does that line really work too?”

“You wound me, Harper.”

“I’m sure your ego will pad your fall,” she sasses, bringing an instant smile to my face.

“Don’t mind her. She’s going through her angry at all men phase,” Free offers, shoulder bumping her friend.

“It’s not a phase. I’m angry at all men,” Harper argues.

“What did we all do?” I ask, finishing off my beer and placing the empty on the bar.

“You all cheat. You’re all horny, spineless assholes who can’t keep it zipped in your pants,” Harper practically growls.

“Well, you are partially right,” I state, leaning toward Harper. Her light eyes turn dark with hurt and fury. Clearly this is a fresh wound and no amount of defending my species is going to rectify the situation. “We are horny and we are assholes, but most of us aren’t spineless. Most of us wouldn’t take the chance at hurting the most gorgeous woman in our life for a five-minute romp in what was probably a bar bathroom, no offense,” I add, giving Mara a look. “That’s not a man, sweetheart, that’s a coward. You have no room or time in your life for cowards. So drink up, dust off those dancin’ shoes, and push that loser out of your mind and your heart. You don’t have the time or energy for someone who doesn’t appreciate exactly what he has in front of him,” I state boldly.

Her eyes fill with unshed tears, and I’m instantly sorry I said anything. It’s not my place, nor do I know anything about the situation. Then there’s the fact that I hate tears. H.A.T.E. them. Suzanne used to whip them out all the time to get what she wanted, and I’m pretty sure I became desensitized over the course of our long ago relationship.

“You know what?” Harper asks, steeling her back and turning to face me. “You’re completely right. What kind of loser screws the known town bar whore in the men’s bathroom of the joint his girlfriend’s friend owns?”

I glance at Mara, who just gives me a small grin.

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