Page 3 of Another Man’s Treasure

“Yours. So you’ve said,” he barks, the deep timbre of his voice skating across my skin like rough, possessive hands. He thrums his fingers on the painted tabletop. “Except it ain’t yours, and it don’t have your name on it, pretty boy.” He leans over the wood to rest his huge green forearms on the surface. “Next time you think about hurlin’ an insult my way, stop a moment and consider your wellbeing instead.”

That said, he looks back down at his computer and completely ignores me.

A mixture of emotions somewhere between fury and embarrassment rocket through me, and I debate slapping that frown off his face with the spade-shaped tip of my tail. It hurts like a bitch to get slapped with something the size of a dessert plate and just as hard.

I’m not gonna bother to give that jerk a response. Tomorrow, I’ll just make sure to get here in time to get my table when BrewHaHa opens. That way, this isn’t a problem again. Spinning on my heel, I stalk away from him and head back to Bluebell’s spot. That male’s eyes follow me the whole way. I can feel them on my back like hot coals at the base of my wings.

Ginger slinks behind me, tucking herself under Bluebell’s table when I slump back into the chair opposite my friend. The dog’s chin rests on my knee as Bluebell glances up.

“Wha……what’s up, dude?”

I wave toward the back of the café. “There’s a guy at my table.”

Bluebell spins around just as I reach for her ponytail to make sure she doesn’t immediately look in his direction. Thankfully, he’s still focused on his computer and most definitely not looking our way.

She turns to me and fans herself like she thinks he’s hot. “Damn, Oz. You shoulda just sat yourself down anyhow. He is hot like, so hot in that way only a troll really manages, ya know?”

I snort and roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. He was rude and off-putting, and I immediately hate him, which means we immediately hate him.”

She lifts both hands. “Fine. We can hate him. I hate him. What a fucking asshole.”

For a few minutes, neither of us say anything. I work on the business plan in my notebook, and she does whatever she does with her to-do list that takes so long.

It’s hard to get lost in the dreaming like I typically do at my table, but I eventually manage it. Until a shadow darkens the paper. When I look up, the troll male stands there with a smirk.

Well, I think he’s a troll. He’s got the trademark green skin and bulky frame. Missing the lower jaw tusks, though.

Unfortunately for my poor libido, he’s even hotter towering over us with that sharp jawline and those piercing green eyes. Ten out of ten for eye contact. Zero out of ten for everything else.

“Can I help you?” I manage, slapping my notebook shut. He doesn’t deserve to see my dreams. Table stealer. Maybe on another day, I wouldn’t be so out of sorts about the table, but I’m feeling dramatic this morning.

Who am I kidding? That’s any morning when I haven’t been laid.

He jerks a big green thumb at the table behind him. “Table’s free, if you still care about it.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as Ginger pokes her head out from under the table to glance up at him.

His eyes soften as he looks down at her. “Hey, sweetheart, aren’t you purdy? Will your daddy tell me your name?”

“No, he won’t,” I say snidely. “And she’s absolutely vicious, so steer clear. Maybe next time I’ll sic her on you if you try to take my table again.”

He says nothing but drops to a knee and holds out the back of his hand. Ginger leans forward and sniffs it, then gives him a tentative lick. A deep chuckle rumbles from his throat as he smiles at her, letting her snorkel all over those big beefy fingers.

“Don’t bogart my table and my pit hell in the same day, please,” I mutter.

The male stands and looks at me from beneath pale lashes that frame those shocking eyes. He says nothing else, just looks as the moment stretches long, then longer, then long enough that a desperate need to fill the silence gets the better of me.

Bluebell’s silent for the first time in her whole life, staring at me as I struggle to figure out what to say.

“Erm, well…”

He leans forward, winks, then thumps the tip of my nose. “See ya around.”

Snarling, I snap my tail at him as he goes, but he sidesteps it easily and doesn’t bother to look at me as he heads out the door. He hooks a right outside and disappears from view as I fume.

My friend Lemon walks through the door right after him, her face breaking into a big smile when she sees Bluebell and me. The blonde vampire takes a seat on the other side of our table and clasps my hand, her smile falling even as her crimson eyes narrow to inspect me. “Honey bear, what’s going on? You look positively feral, Oz.”

Bluebell chuckles. “Oz is in deep doodoo, Lem, the deepest of doodoo.”