Page 3 of Forty and Fighting Dirty

“Excuse me?” the man drawled.

I stuck out my jaw. “Yes, that’s exactly right. Excuseyou.”

He’d only glanced over his shoulder, half turning to see whohad confronted him. Now he spun around completely, likely to try to intimidate me with his breadth and height. Little did he know that I was done being intimidated by men who swaggered around like they owned every room they entered. I’d been married to a man just like this, who thought I was invisible, who believed he could walk all over me—and did.

Never again.

This was my fresh start, damn it. I wasn’t going to let a man push me around. Besides, what kind of jerk cut in line so brazenly?

His tone was quiet, slightly curious, and very dangerous. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

My smile was sharp. “No. Thankfully.”

He blinked.

I clutched my purse strap and jutted out my chin. “What I really want to know is whether or not you’ve heard of the concept of a line before.” I swept my arm toward the eight or ten people behind me, who all seemed to be enjoying the show.

So much for making a good first impression.

The line-cutter’s gaze remained on mine for a long, long moment. Then he flicked a glance to the other people in the café before returning those dark, dark eyes to mine. “I’m in a hurry,” he said, calm and unflappable.

“Yeah? So am I, buddy.”

“Well then, it’s in both our best interests to hurry this along, isn’t it?” He gave me a closed-lipped smile, and the flatness of his gaze left no illusion as to what he really thought about this interaction. He wasn’t amused. All he did was turn his back onme and say, “I’ll grab that blueberry muffin as well, Violet, if you don’t mind.”

“Absolutelynot,” I snapped.

This time, the man scoffed before he turned. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I was next in line, and that blueberry muffin ismine.”

“From where I’m standing, I’m next.”

“You cut in line.”

“I told you, I’m in a hurry.”

Violet took that moment to pipe up and say, “Ma’am, really, it’s not?—”

“Unless you’re about to tell me I’m right and this asshole needs to get to the back of the line, I don’t want to hear it, Violet.”

“Asshole, huh,” he said on a huff.

“I said what I said.” I bared my teeth at him. All the lightness and excitement that had buoyed me as I waited for my coffee turned to lead in my gut. Now I wasn’t looking forward to my fresh start. I wasn’t feeling grateful for my dream job.

Now I was just plain olemad.

Who cut in line like that? Without even a word or a glance? Honestly,who did that?

His eyes skimmed my face and lingered on my lips. He took in my half-unzipped jacket and clenched fists, all the way down to the pinstriped wool pants that I’d bought specifically for this new job. When his eyes finally finished their journey roaming all over every contour of my body and returned to meet my gaze, the amusement was gone, replaced by a look offlat disregard.

He swept his arm out in a dramatic flourish. “After you, madam.”

I took a giant step forward, but I didn’t face Violet. I kept him in my sights and arched my brows.

He arched his right back. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Sure,” I agreed easily. “Now I want to know why you’re standing directly behind me instead of at the back of the line where you belong.”