A Taste of Spring novel Chapter 37

Spring turned to Fallon, who sat in the booth on the other side of her but not close. His attention was glued to Summer.

"You want something, Two?" Summer asked as she handed her purse to Spring.

Spring took the purse. "Something sweet."

"Hey," Fallon called, "don't you need your purse to buy drinks?"

Summer stopped, turned, then leaned over the table toward Fallon's side. Spring watched as Fallon's dark eyes grew darker as he took in all the cleavage Summer pushed at him. "The day I buy my own drinks will be the day I have a ring on this finger." She held up her left ring finger. "...and a big strong alpha who doesn't just beat the ass of any man who threatens me, but," and she whispered the rest just loud enough for only Fallon and Spring to hear, "knows how to make my kitty purr." Summer winked at him then walked away.

Spring giggled as she watched Fallon's eyes narrow.

"I don't know what she said but I'm thinking she likes him," Dez grinned.

Spring laughed at that too. If he only knew.

"What?" Dez asked, his brows crinkled with confusion.

"Nothing." Spring shifted so that she faced Dezmond. "So, how is the new book coming along?"

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FALLON

To say that he was pissed was an understatement. These "women" encroached on his day and time with his friend. Taking up quality bro time. It wasn't as if he was jealous. Plenty of women joined them on their bro outings.

Though, none of those women were professionals. This was inexcusable.

He shot Dezmond a disgusted glance. His friend was falling for this chick's bull like a schoolboy getting head for the first time. Yeah, she was gorgeous but she was nothing more than a prop. One he paid good money to entertain his friend for only...ONE damn night.

He rolled his eyes skyward at the sound of Spring's and Dez's laughter.

(Who do they think they are?)

Fallon knew exactly what Spring was. He fucking hired her to be what she was. He lowered his head and pinned the sister, Summer, with his hawkish gaze. She basically sat at the bar, coming over to the booth just to drop off drinks.

He chuckled. She actually had some dumbass buy the table a round.

Laughter beside him rang out again. It took all he was not to drop her fucking lie out on the table. (Their lie.) "Dammit," he groaned.

"Why are you still sour tonight, Fallon?" Dezmond leaned around his date to make eye contact.

"Nothing," Fallon grunted. He slid out of the booth and headed to the bar.

"Hey," Dezmond pointed to Fallon's arm, "what happened to your arm? Looks like you got into it with a tiger."

Fallon glanced down at his arm where four scratch marks were slashed over his forearm. "Nothing," he said as he rolled his sleeve down over the scratches. He rolled down his other sleeve to match.

As he approached the bar, he narrowed his eyes at Summer. (Look at her. Thinking she's God's gift to men.)

He knew the type. Knew them well. He maneuvered himself between the stool Summer sat on and the stool one of her fans occupied.

"Hey, what's your problem?" Fanboy asked.

Fallon didn't respond to the guy as he stared at Summer, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She knew he was beside her; he could tell by the way she tensed, but it took her a few seconds to look at him, then around him.

"Excuse my friend here, Bo. He's having a bad day and needs some Summer in his life," she smiled as she reached over and caressed the guy's hand. "Will you excuse us?"

Fallon looked over his shoulder and raised his brow in a challenge. (Bo?) When Fallon thought of the name Bo, he imagined a big ass linebacker from Kansas. This guy was small, pasty white as if he never seen a damn summer in his life and wore thick glasses and a t-shirt that said "Mess with the bull. You get the horns". The picture on the T-shirt was a little guy calling in a cavalry of more little guys with a bullhorn.

(Cute.)

He almost felt bad for giving the guy the brow challenge. Almost.

Bo wiggled off the stool and Fallon took his place. The man gave a laughable rendition of his badass brow threat before turning around and walking away. Fallon chuckled.

"Now, Fallon. Play nice."