Page 4 of The Fangirl and the Grump

“Nah,” Bram says. “She’s not a Cub. Her friend is, though, and this is a post-break-up trip to cheer the woman up.”

“You got all of that out of her that quickly?” I ask, and Bram shoots me a wink.

“I’m a bartender. Trade secrets and all.” Then he sobers. “What’s wrong with you, tonight? You seem crankier than usual, which is saying a lot.”

“Fuck you,” I say, but there’s no bite in the words. “I got stopped outside by a gaggle of twenty-somethings. They insisted I take selfies with them. That’s the third time this week.”

A laugh barks out of him before he can stop it, and he tries––and fails––to curb his amusement at my expense.

“Maybe you should shave the beard. Then you won’t look so much likeWolf Daddy.”

“Don’t.”

“What?” he asks with a laugh. “You know it’s true.”

It is true. With dark hair sprinkled with a few silvers at the temples and a full beard, I bear a strong resemblance to the hero’s father in the Cursed movies. The character’s female fans dubbed him “Wolf Daddy,” and the term gets yelled at me in random public places more often than I’d like.

I’d prefernever.

I’m thirty-nine years old, for Christ’s sake. All these twenty-something women who were teenagers when the movie came out should not be hitting on me and calling me anything that includes the term “daddy.”

Another woman edges up to the bar next to me, and Bram turns his attention to her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I let my gaze roam over her as she orders a cosmo and a whiskey-soda. She’s beautiful in the classical sense with long, dark hair, perky tits, and a slender build squeezed into a scrap of material posing as a dress. Not my type, but I can see the appeal.

That is, until she speaks.

“Please make sure the glasses are clean. This bar is disgusting.”

Bram just continues to smile, letting the insult roll off his back. My blood boils as I open my mouth to come to his defense, but a shout from a few tables away cuts off whatever I was going to say.

“Hurry up, Mads! I want to make a toast!”

I look toward the voice and the first thing I notice is the eyes. They’re bright blue with long, curling lashes. A pert little nose and pouty lips are set between full, vibrant cheeks. She stands to wave her friend over, and I see she’s a tiny little thing, not even five and a half feet.

But the rest of her…Jesus.Those tight jeans don’t hide a thing, and her curves are making my mouth water. I look back up at her face and cringe inwardly. She’syoung. Maybe mid-twenties.

And probably a fucking CursedCub.

Suddenly, her eyes snap to mine and widen.

Fuck me.

“Oh, my God, it’s Joseph Lumin!” she shouts, the slurred words making me grit my teeth and look away. “Wolf Daddy! Ahh-ahh-ahh-wooo!”

I spit out a curse before spinning back around and hunching over the bar. Every muscle in my body clenches as several other patrons howl in response, the sound grating on my eardrums and making my blood boil. Looking up at Bram from beneath my furrowed brow, I shake my head.

“I’m out of here.”

“Sorry, man,” he says, for once, not laughing at my frustration. “The beer’s on me.”

“Thanks,” I say, then I slide off the stool.

Keeping my gaze straight ahead so as not to accidentally make eye contact with anyone, I stride toward the exit and slam through the door. The cool night air brushes against my skin and fills my lungs as I take a deep breath. It helps to alleviate some of my irritation, and I take a moment to exhale completely before taking another.

It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.

No reason to be angry.

No need to punch or break something.

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