This woman can get under my skin quicker than my damn brothers. I had no intention of fighting with her this morning, but it’s like she opens her mouth and I can’t help myself. I was an ass in there however, I know that. It’s just lunch… what could be the harm?

Those are my thoughts when we first start walking across the street. After that, I’m watching her walk in front of me, her ass swaying in a tight skirt. She has a loose silk shirt on too and the hem of it rises as she moves her arm and flashes a small strip of skin between it and the back of her skirt. My gaze lifts from the sway of that bouncing ass, to that piece of flesh. I become obsessed with it. What does it feel like? What would it taste like if I run my tongue over it… bite it?

Or look with my name inked on it…

That makes me jerk my head up. What in the hell is wrong with me?

“Are you okay?”

“What?” I ask, not about to admit that I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all. That thought came out of left field. Did Linda not teach me anything? I need to stay away from crazy-ass women and this woman is crazy. She nearly ran me over with a lawnmower, went ballistic over nothing and probably has trophies made out of men’s balls hidden in her bedroom.

“It’s just…. Wait!” she yells, but it’s too late.

I walk right into a damn light pole.

“Motherfucker,” I groan, holding my nose. My head had been feeling better.

“Are you okay?” she asks again and I wonder how many times a damn woman can ask that, when it’s clear I’m not.

“If you’d quit talking to me while I’m walking, I’d be great,” I grumble, rubbing my damn nose wondering if it’s going to swell now and Mom will want to put cow piss or something on it to match the manure she put on my forehead.

“Wow. You really are a grouch. I was just wanting to tell you to watch out for that light pole. I was afraid you were still suffering from blurry vision or something because you were walking straight for it…”

“Let’s get this lunch over with,” I mutter under my breath, putting my hand on her back and leading her to the diner. I open the door and guide us to the back, waving or saying hi to a few people as we go. Mason is a small place and everyone basically knows everyone.

“You’re like a celebrity.”

“What’s your name?” I ask her, because it suddenly occurs to me that I have no idea what it is.

She leans up on the table and gives me a grin and I really shouldn’t like how that smile makes her eyes light up and dance—but I do.

“I thought you decided it was Princess?” she says, grinning even more.

“If you’re Princess, what does that make me?”

“Hmm… I may need to think on that,” she responds as if giving it serious thought.

“Here are your menus. Can I take your drink order?”

“I’ll have sweet tea please,” Princess says and for some damn reason my eyes are glued to her lips as she speaks. It’s probably just because I’m hungry. Like the commercial says, I’m not myself when I’m hungry.

“What about you, Black?” she asks. I’ve known her since we were kids and her Mama first built this place. Susie all but runs it now, but Wednesdays are usually slow days in town in general and she keeps her wait staff to minimum.

“Coffee is good, Susie.”

“Do you guys want to order? Or do you need a few minutes?”

“What are you having?” Princess asks me.

“Same thing as I always have on Wednesdays—”

“Mom’s famous enchiladas. That seems to be the consensus today,” Susie laughs.

“Well then I guess that’s what I’m having,” Princess responds, closing her menu and handing it back. I do the same and it’s after Susie leaves that she turns the smile back on me.

“Does everyone call you Black?” she asks, surprising me. It’s a strange question, but I guess we haven’t really introduced ourselves—especially since she’s refusing to give me her name.

“Most everyone,” I shrug. “Some call me asshole…”

“At least you admit it,” she laughs.

“My name is Addie, although I kind of like you calling me Princess. I can always call you my loyal servant.”

“Annnnd…. Addie it is.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Whatever,” I laugh, she’s a firecracker. I don’t know if I’ve ever met a woman so quick to give me shit—unless it’s my sisters or my mother. I shouldn’t like it… but I do.

“What made you decide to go into law as a career?”

I think on the question. I’m not sure how to answer—at least to someone I barely know, so I turn it around on her.

“What made you decide to get in the landscaping business?” I ask instead.

She looks surprised for a second and then she gets a sweet blush on her cheeks that I wasn’t expecting. Her eyes dart down as Susie brings our drinks and for a minute I think she’s not going to answer. I watch as her fingertip moves over the rim of her glass. Slowly she looks back up at me and her eyes, which I’ve just figured out look almost gray come back to me. The way she looks right now is mesmerizing. Her gaze has an intensity that I can feel and she’s beautiful. I vaguely noticed it the last time—I was too aggravated, but right now she literally takes my breath.

Damn. When is the last time that happened? Has it ever before? I don’t think it has.

“I love what I do. I could spend hours creating and planning and never get tired. Before my mother got sick, we used to spend hours together… now it’s like she’s with me in some ways.”

“I’m sorry about your mom. That’s rough. You’re young.”

“Not that young,” she shrugs.

“How young is not that young?” I ask, and now I’m genuinely curious. I was expecting this woman to stay on my ass the entire lunch and give me hell, but it turns out I’m actually having fun. When Addie isn’t screaming and trying to terrorize a man, she’s damn good company.

“I’m twenty-four,” she says and I have to say I’m surprised. I knew she was young and I guess twenty-four isn’t that young, I’m turning thirty-two this year, but I thought she’d be older. I mean she runs her own business. It’s not like her age is anything to me. If I think on it, I don’t know why it should upset me that she’s so young.

Okay not so young… but she’s still young.

“Well, actually I will be twenty-four in a couple of months,” she adds.

Motherfucker.

“How about you?” she asks and she seems interested. I shift uneasily in my chair for some reason.

“I’m not twenty-three, I’ll tell you that much,” I grumble. Hell, I don’t think I remember twenty-three.

“Oh come on. It’s not that young. How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-one,” I tell her, just wanting this conversation done for some reason.

“Oh my God! You’re practically ancient.”

“Very funny,” I mutter, taking a drink of my coffee.

“It’s very commendable that you’re still working at your age. It must be hard on you.”

“Having fun?”

“Surprisingly, I am,” she says, shocking me. “Are you?”

“Well, you haven’t tried to kill me yet and I’ve not been stung by a killer bee, so I’m hopeful,” I crack and again she surprises me by laughing.

She’s got a really nice laugh…

Damn.