Only Mine (Honey Mountain #5)
Laura Pavlov
one
Dylan
I sipped my chai tea latte, holding it in my spare hand while my other hand rested on the steering wheel. My gaze scanned the street as people moved quickly along the sidewalk on a mission to get to wherever they were going. I loved the energy of the city. It didn’t hurt that my sister, Everly, and her husband, Hawk, had an amazing penthouse here in San Francisco that I was staying at for now while they were back in Honey Mountain with my baby nephew, Jackson. I’d grown up in a small town just a few hours from here, and it was home—but I was ready to spread my wings and fly.
Duke Wayburn, the owner of the San Francisco Lions, was going to set me up in corporate housing next week, pending today’s final meeting with his son, Wolfgang, went well. I couldn’t believe I’d made it this far in the process of being hired as chief legal for a professional hockey team. Sure, I had my brother-in-law and sister to thank for getting me in the door, as they both worked for the organization—Hawk as the NHL superstar that he was, and Everly as the team’s sports psychologist. But that connection only got me the initial meeting. After three lengthy interviews, I’d had to sell myself and convince both Duke Wayburn and his current chief legal, Roger Strafford, that I was the right candidate for the job.
A woman who was young and new to her profession, but more than qualified.
I pulled into the gas station, inching my way to the pump on my left. Thankfully, I’d allowed plenty of time this morning to fill up the tank and get my power drink. If everything went smoothly today, I’d be signing my contract before lunch, and I was more than ready. A black SUV startled me as it came from the opposite direction and just missed hitting my front fender as it slid next to the pump that I was approaching.
The freaking nerve of some people.
Chivalry is dead, my friends.
Not that I cared either way. I was not someone who needed a man to do things for me. But common decency was something altogether different. I mean, be a good human, right? Isn’t that what life was all about? I’m not saying you have to open my door for me; I can open my own damn door.
But, male or female be damned, don’t cut someone off at the mother freaking gas pump.
It’s just bad… peopling.
My hands fisted around my steering wheel after I returned my infamous Starbucks cup to the holder in the center console. I would not allow anything to derail my mood today. I pulled around to the other side, directly next to the asshole who’d just stolen my pump, and I shot him my best death glare.
He had on dark shades and looked like some sort of bodyguard. As if he were too important to follow basic rules like the rest of us.
Nothing irritated me more than injustice.
I slid the nozzle in place, adjusting it so that it would start filling my tank automatically as I made my way around the side of the pump, pausing in front of the middle-aged man as he stood there waiting for his tank to fill up.
“Hey. You cut me off, and I don’t appreciate it.” I folded my arms over my chest and raised a brow. I called it like it is, and this guy wasn’t getting away with his bad manners if I had anything to say about it.
“Oh, sorry about that. I didn’t see you. I just do what the boss tells me to do.”
“And did the boss tell you to be an asshole this morning?” I hissed.
“Is there a problem?” The back window opened, and a deep voice barked at me.
I marched around the side of the car. “I take it you’re the boss?”
“That depends on who you’re asking.” He pulled off his glasses, and his dark blue eyes scanned my body from my toes up to my face before they locked with mine. His brown hair was slicked back, dark scruff peppered his chin, and he looked to be wearing a very expensive suit from what I could see of the top portion.
What can I say? I have an eye for good style.
That didn’t deter me.
The devil never showed up in a cheap, knock-off suit—he always came clad in Armani, didn’t he?
“Why don’t you tell your muscle to wait his turn at the pump?” I said, moving closer because I wanted to get a better look.
He didn’t smile. His gaze hardened as if I were some sort of mosquito pestering him. “He did. We’re here. Why don’t you go pump your gas, Princess.”
Anyone who knew me well was aware that calling me Princess was a trigger, and it would get you nowhere. You’d have better luck calling me King.
“Listen, douchedick, how about you just apologize, and we’ll go about our day.”
“Did you forget to take your meds this morning?” He raised a brow.
A maniacal laugh escaped my lips. I could deliver sarcasm better than anyone I knew. “Of course… I call you out for being an asshole, so I must be a crazy person?”
“You can call me out however you want. We didn’t see you there. Are we done?” He slipped his sunglasses back on his face, and the window moved up slowly.
Are you freaking kidding me?
I flashed him the double bird and shook my head in disgust, storming back toward my car, and the other guy winced when he saw me coming.
“I am sorry about cutting you off. I honestly didn’t see you.”
“Well, I appreciate you owning it. I’m sorry you have to work for a man who clearly has a small penis.” I tipped up my chin, and I heard him chuckling behind me as I made my way back to my car.