Page 16 of Last Man Standing

Curious, I lift my brow in question.

“Ya know, since you always have such unpleasant things to say.” Derision drips from every word she speaks. “If it’s not unkind, it’s crass. If it’s not crass, it’s straight-up inexcusable.” She looks me up and down, much the same way I study her. Except she doesn’t like what she sees. “Don’t approach me when I’m alone ever again.”

“Oh, well…” I turn as she stomps away and watch her ass move. “Sure thing, Princess. Sorry to bother you.”

“And stop calling me princess! I’d say I have a name and that you should use it—” She stops with her hand on the porch railing, her eyes pithy and unkind. “—But you have no reason to speak to me at all. Therefore, no name is needed.”

“Sorry, Princess.” I flash a tormenting smile and enjoy her huffing stride up the porch steps. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

“Unlikely.” She grabs the back door and storms inside.

Two days after our interlude in the yard, I wander into the living room to find Scarlett sitting on the floor, dozens of markers spread across the coffee table, and her hand moving impossibly fast over the graffitied pages of her notebook.

Curious, I scan the quiet living room, the television on but muted, and the fireplace crackling in time with the scratch of her pen.

No Lincoln. No Nova.

In reality, they’re probably hidden in their room, fucking their way through the monotony of playing host to a woman who does nothing, says nothing, and shares nothing that might help the situation she’s found herself in.

Some of us are inclined to destroy those who threaten us.

Scarlett Castro, it seems, prefers to scowl and draw silly little lines.

Pity. She’s beautiful enough to watch for a week. A month. Perhaps even a year, if the sex is good. But beyond that, the tedium of nothingness would make even the best lay too high a price to pay.

But those are the crude, unpleasant things she doesn’t want me to say out loud.

Quiet laughter bubbles along my throat as I consider how she’d respond to my thoughts, the sound startling her until she shoots straight and glares over her shoulder in that way she’s so good at. She pierces me with a pair of baby blues and sends two delicious dimples popping in her cheeks.

They’re not just for when she smiles.

“Relax, Princess. It’s just me.”

Sneering, she robs me of the attention I kinda want and forces her focus back to what she was doing. Scribbling. “I was here first. I suggest you find somewhere else to spend your time.”

“Nah.” I dig my hands into my pockets and wander into the room, around the three-seater couch, and stop close enough that if she wanted to lean on my legs, she could.

She won’t. But she could.

“I’d rather pull up stumps in here for a bit.” I scan her drawings and search for her secrets in the chaos, but unless she’s drawing a thirty-seven-layered treasure map and buried her gold at the bottom of a deadly spiral, I’m not sure there are any secrets to glean. Lowering onto the couch behind her, I sit close enough to smell the strawberries in her shampoo. “Figured out who’s fucking with you yet?”

“Yep.” She slaps her book shut and sweeps her markers into a case. “You. You’re fucking with me.”

“Because I walked into the room?”

“Because you walked in and sat down, even when I said I wanted to be alone!” With jerky movements and her ass momentarily perfectly placed to be bitten, she surges to her feet, snatches up her pen case, and hits me with a glare. “You’re just another guy who refuses to listen when a woman tells him to go away.” She scoops her notebook up and hugs her supplies to her chest. “I’m not trying to make an enemy out of you, but my skin crawls when you and I are in the same room. You’re the reason for half of the scars on Nova’s face. And my brother works hard every single day not to shoot you dead.”

“Ouch,” I lay my hand on my chest. “You wound me, Princess.”

“Not fatally. But I’ll keep trying.”

“All because I sat down?”

“All because I’ve had my fill of egotistical men who don’t understand the word no.”

“Ohhhh, I see.” Settling back against the cushions, I drop my legs wide and grin when my knee inadvertently taps hers. “You hate all men. Your ex fucked you up, so now you’re gonna make us all pay the price.” I click my tongue. “Tsk, Princess. That would be like me hating all women because I caught my girlfriend sucking another dude’s dick way back when we were sixteen. Silly me.”

“Seems you do hate all women. Your reputation precedes you, remember? And my brother always brings receipts when I have questions.”