Piercing blue eyes followed her until she ran into something, a waitress, and toppled forward as they both fell. Willa’s skirt flipped up, and she screeched as she hit the sticky wooden floors tits first. She was the worst at falling. She did it all the damned time, and she still had no instinct to catch herself with her hands.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she groaned as she helped a dark-headed waitress shove trash and a half-empty basket of fries back onto her tray. “I’m such a clutz.”
“I am, too. It’s okay,” the woman said. Her cheeks blushed bright red. “It’s my first week.”
“Oooh, now I feel even worse. You’re doing a great job!” she called as the waitress bustled away.
“Hey, shrimp, can I buy you a drink?” Matt asked from above her.
From the floor, it looked like his head was touching the ceiling. “Shrimp?” Her mouth was so frowny it hurt. “That offends me.”
Matt shrugged as if he didn’t care. “It was that or Granny Panties.”
“Granny Panties?” An exasperated sound huffed out of her mouth as she shoved the hem of her skirt downward to cover the panties in question. “They’re called comfy cottons, I’ll have you know. They came in six festive colors!”
“Oh, you smell angry. And you look angry, too, with your eyes all scrunched up like that.” He was fighting an irritating smile as he offered her a hand.
“I don’t need your help,” she grumbled. “I don’t need anything from you.” She scrambled upward, still holding her skirt over her legs. “Not a drink, not a hand up, not a diddle, not a conversation. If it’s a connection you’re looking for”—she waved her hand over toward the bombshells who were in shallow conversation with the men from the bar—“they’re your girls. The brunette is super easy.”
She stomped off toward the bathroom.
“Really?” Matt called after her in an obnoxiously hopeful tone.
“No, asshole.” She banged the single toilet bathroom door closed behind her and snapped the lock in place.
Puffing air out her cheeks, she slammed her palms down on either side of the sink and glared at her reflection in the mirror. Burgundy rimmed glasses, chestnut brown eyes, and dyed red hair. She’d even spent extra time on her make-up and straightened her hair with one of those flat irons the bombshells probably carried around in their purses for hair emergencies. Hmm, she did look angry.
She wasn’t even mad at the shifter. Not really. He’d just caught her right when she’d felt betrayed by her friends. She was upset she hadn’t dug deeper into the bombshells’ reasons for visiting Saratoga, Wyoming instead of Cabo or Florida. Truth be told, she’d pathetically been so flattered at being invited, she’d sat back while they made the plans. Heat blasted through her cheeks. How stupid she must look to them. No doubt the bombshells had been snickering behind her back this whole time.
Why had they even included her on this trip?
A knock sounded on the door. Right, she was hogging the bathroom. “Just a minute.” She washed her hands and re-adjusted her glasses, squared her shoulders because she was Willa-freaking-Madden, and despite how those girls out there made her feel, she was awesome.
****
Matt waited, arms locked against either side of the bathroom door frame. He’d pissed off the little human, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how. She’d had that smell about her that most women got right before they slapped him, but he’d gone over their conversation in his head three times and still couldn’t think of anything he’d said that was slap-worthy.
“Matt,” Jason said at normal volume from his stool at the bar. Matt could hear him just fine, but focused instead on the sound of running water in the bathroom.
“Matt,” Jason called louder. “What are you doing messing with that chick?”
Matt cast him a narrow-eyed glare as his bear snarled from inside him. She wasn’t just some chick. She was embarrassed from showing her panties to the bar, and he was going to make sure she was okay. Or something.
One of the blonds was sitting on Jason’s lap, ripe for the picking and practically unzipping his jeans in front of everyone. Matt inhaled the scent of arousal wafting from the bar. Why was he here, worrying about this girl who obviously hated him, when there were three ready and willing women in there with his crew?
The bathroom door swung open, and the tiny hellion ran into his chest. Again. Shoving her thick rimmed glasses up her nose, she glared up at him and blasted her hands onto her hips. She looked like a pissed off kitten.