Once the group of women have their drinks, I decide it’s time for my break. I pick up a case of empty bottles and carry them to the storage room. After I set the case down in its proper place, I lean against the wall for a breather.
I’m feeling restless and jumpy. I don’t know what my problem is. I love my life here in Colorado. I may have fought moving here from St. Louis last year – what thirty-three-year-old wants to relocate across the country with her brother and two of her sisters? – but I was wrong.
Colorado rocks. I’ve made a ton of friends. I’ve got a good job as the night manager here at theWhite Stag.The nature is beautiful. And there are no ex-lovers to bump into. What’s not to love? Except I’m feeling edgy.
I check my watch. I need to get back to work. The mystery of why Cassandra is feeling edgy will remain unanswered for today.
I fix my ponytail and straighten my t-shirt before opening the door to the hallway.
“Hello, beautiful.”
Seriously? Someone can’t get a clue if they were giving them away.
I cross my arms over my chest and his gaze drops to my cleavage. Creeper. I don’t drop my arms, though. Nope. I refuse to change who I am for a man. Especially this one.
“What do you want?”
Mr. Handsy steps closer and draws a finger up my arm. “Like I said, I want to know what you’re doing tonight after you get off work.”
I grab his finger to stop him before he reaches my shoulder.
“What the hell is going on here?”
I glance behind me to discover Mr. Hottie standing there.
“I got this,” I tell him.
He motions his hand forward. “Get on with it.”
“I don’t need your permission to handle Mr. Handsy.”
“Didn’t say you did,” he grumbles before crossing his arms over his chest causing his biceps to bulge and I nearly forget why we’re standing here talking.
Mr. Handsy tries to yank his finger from my grasp. Ah, yes. Now I remember what I was doing.
“It is not okay to touch a woman without her permission,” I tell him as I bend his finger backwards until he squeaks and wrenches his hand away.
“You bitch! You broke my finger.”
I chuckle. “Don’t be a crybaby. It’s not broken. Although, I could have broken it if I wanted to.”
“Who do you think you are? I’m going to sue you!”
“Okay.” I shrug. “I guess I’ll be phoning the police to file a report on you then.”
“You, you, you,” he sputters. “How dare you?”
“Did you or did you not touch me without permission?”
“The permission was implicit.”
“Implicit?” I snort. “There was nothing about my behavior to suggest I gave you permission to touch me. In fact, I have about fifty witnesses who heard me tell you no twice.”
I reach for the phone in my back pocket.
“No.” He slaps at my arm, but I retreat a step before he can touch me.
“No? All of a sudden you understand what the word no means? Huh. Interesting.”