She straightens her shoulders, and even though she’s trying to put on a brave front, it’s clear as fucking day that she’s trying her damn hardest to become invisible as they get closer.
Looking back at them, I can’t help but notice the differences between them and Leighton. We’re in a fancy Italian place just outside of Dallas, but it isn’t fancy enough for the shit they have on. The blond hair on both of their heads is just about the only thing they could come close to having in common with Leigh. The shit they have on is just as tight as it is short, their sparkly dresses leaving nothing to the imagination. I steal a glance down and see the ridiculously high heels they’re prancing on. They look like hookers, but judging by the amount of diamonds dripping off them, they’re more likely just rich sluts.
To my complete shock, they walk right up to the table and stop.
“Can I help you?” I question, annoyance fueled by my worry over Leigh making my words come out uninviting and harsh.
“Are you—” thing one starts to say, but her irritating as fuck giggles start back up again and she just ends up smiling.
“What my friend here, Tamera, is trying to ask is, are you Maverick Davis?” The other one cuts in, leaning forward a bit so her ample cleavage pushes together even farther. “The Maverick Davis?”
Leigh makes a noise that sounds a whole hell of a lot like a whimper, the sound so low I almost miss it.
What the fuck?
“I am,” I respond, not looking away from Leigh until the chick opens her mouth again. The sticky sweet voice is as high as a mouse.
“I’m Veronica, by the way,” she continues. Like I give a fuck.
Not wanting to do something to embarrass Leigh, especially when I’m not sure what’s got her upset to begin with, I bite my tongue and answer politely. “Nice to meet y’all.”
Thing one, whatever her name was, moves closer, pushing into Leigh and making her fork clatter onto the plate. Her head shoots up at the sound, looking around the restaurant with wild eyes before stopping on my face.
“Fuck this,” I grumble, tossing my napkin on the table and leaning back. “Excuse me, but could you have a little respect?” The chick rolls her eyes, not moving an inch. I look from her to her friend and then back again. “Back away. Now.”
This time she moves, but barely, and only because her friend pulls her away.
“We just wanted to stop by and give you this,” Victoria, Vicki, whatever her name was says, holding out a piece of paper. I stare at it, but only when she starts to jam it into my face do I reach up and take it. “We weren’t sure how much time you had here in town, but if you want to have some fun, we would love to show you how a real lady can rock your world.” When she says the last part, she looks down at Leighton like she’s some sort of diseased animal.
“A real lady?” I ask incredulously. Leighton’s eyes narrow as she regards me. I look from her up to these bitches and raise my brow. “Are you trying to imply that my woman isn’t a real lady?” I seethe. I hear Leigh gasp, but fuck if I know what’s gotten her heckles up now. I don’t look away from them, hoping like hell they can see how pissed I am.
“Well,” the giggling one says, still fuckin’ giggling, and looks down at Leigh. “I mean, look at her.”
She can’t be serious. I glance at the other one, Vanessa or whatever, but get only more pissed than I was when it’s written all over her face that she thinks the same. Opening the paper, I see a hotel name, room, and a phone number written down. I blink a few times, not even believing the nerve of these two.
Leaning back in my seat, I shift my scrutiny and scan my eyes over Leighton’s face. I can’t tell if she’s pissed, but she is definitely upset by their words.
“Let me ask you, what makes you think I don’t already have a real lady?”
Their lips curl in disgust. Both of them roll their eyes with a huff. It almost looks like something they coordinated in advance. Vapid bitches.
“She’s wearing old, dirty boots and something that I bet she bought at the discount mall,” the one closer to Leigh says smartly with another roll of her eyes.
Vanessa bats her ridiculously false eyelashes. “I think what Tamera means is that you’re clearly used to women more like us and we didn’t want to leave without making sure you knew that you have options. We would hate for someone like you to end up with, well . . . options is what we wanted to give you.”
I lean forward, pulling my wallet out and snagging a few bills. More than enough to cover our dinner and leave a more than generous tip. Flipping their proffered paper around between my fingers, I look up and smile. Leigh remains silent, and I know she recognizes my fake sincerity.
“In my book, ladies, my princess always wears boots. You two have no clue what type of women I’m used to, but let me assure you, it has never been the type of woman that would rather look like a two-bit whore than a . . . what did you call it? A real lady? A real lady wouldn’t be caught dead outside the house wearing something a hooker would have in her closet. A real lady doesn’t have to show off her body, because all she has to do is smile and men will drop at her feet to give her the world. This woman, my woman, is as real as it gets and you two would be lucky to have just an ounce of what she does.”
I stand, towering over them, and reach my free hand out for Leigh. She takes it with no hesitation and I pull her into my body. Her soft curves pressing into my side dims some of my anger. With the paper they had given me between two fingers, I reach forward and sink it to the bottom of my water glass.
“With all due respect, you can take your offer and fuck right off.”
They sputter and gasp. I pick my hat up off the chair that I had hooked it on before we sat down, and place it on my head. Turning at the same time, the people at the tables around us start clapping. I ignore it, but Leigh just presses her head into my chest. Leighton keeps pace with me all the way out of the restaurant, even though I know, in my anger, it can’t be easy. I help her up into the truck, pulling the seat belt across her body silently. Right when it clicks into place, her tiny hand folds under my chin and tips my head up.
“I lov—” she starts, tears in her eyes, but I interrupt her instantly when I realize what she is about to say.
“Don’t you dare give me the words I want and have the memory of this moment tainted with that bullshit you just had to sit through. You hold them tight and let me get us home, baby. Let me get us home.”