“Why should I?” He stared down at her finger until she dropped it, feeling silly.
Damn, he was intimidating.
“Be-because it’s polite when someone is calling your name to stop and talk to them.”
She nearly groaned.
Really, Millie, that’s what you’re going with?
“Never put much stock in being polite,” he drawled.
She huffed out a breath. “I can tell.” She shifted around again. Damn it. This was so uncomfortable.
“Do you need the toilet?” he snapped.
She stilled. What kind of question was that? It wasn’t something you asked a stranger.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re doing the pee dance.”
Pee dance? She wasn’t two. Well, sometimes. . .
“I’m having a wardrobe malfunction,” she told him with false dignity. “Could you turn around?”
He gave her a look that clearly said he thought she was nuts.
“Listen, lady—”
“My name is Millie—”
“Don’t care.”
Wow, he was rude. And he was turning away, completely ignoring her. She took the opportunity to fix her bra then called out to him again.
“Wait! I still need to speak to you.”
“Don’t need to speak to you.”
“Urgh. I’m beginning to see why you don’t care that someone might be out to harm you!” She stomped her foot.
To her surprise, he stopped and turned. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because with your attitude, I’m certain you’ve had so many threats that you likely aren’t worried about one more, right?”
She felt terrible as soon as she said that. She bit her lower lip in consternation.
She froze as he leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear. A shiver went up her spine. Holy. Hell. How could she react like that when she’d just met him? And when he was such a jerk?
“There’s few that could take me on and win. Go home. You don’t belong here. Understand?”
Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment and anger.
Suddenly, he jumped back and gaped down at her bag which had been between them. “Your bag bit me!”
“What? How could my bag bite you?” Had he lost his mind?
Then she remembered. Mr. Fluffy.