Free The Cougar's Bargain by Holley Trent

of her. The beast occasionally hijacked the human part of her brain and muddled her instincts. Plain-old Hannah might have stood and glowered, because the chick
obviously
lacked home training, and Southerners cared about that kind of thing. Cougar Hannah watched to snatch the waitress by the hair and go WWE Diva on her—to bodyslam her against the ground and grind her pretty face against the sticky floor.
    She’s touching him. Can you see that?
the cat was saying as if it didn’t share a set of eyes with the human part.
    Why do you care?
We’re trying to get rid of him
, she argued with her cat self. Sean was saying some words to the waitress, and the waitress was smiling in his face like she’d gotten the expression surgically fixed there, but Hannah couldn’t make out what she was saying. Her pulse thumped too loudly in her ears and his lips weren’t moving enough for her to make out any specific words.
    Sean set the woman onto her feet, and she tottered off.
    Hannah glared at him, not really knowing why, only that she
should
.
    “What?” he asked.
    “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
    “If you say so.” He canted his head toward the bar. “Let’s sit over there. I need to chat with the owner while we eat, if he’s here.”
    “Mm-hmm.”
Maybe Little Miss Friendly could take him off my hands.
Hannah didn’t know anything about the woman, but figured it was a good sign the waitress had tried to climb him as if he were a tall, fuckable tree.
    That mental image made her shudder hard.
    He caught up to her side in a moment and leaned down to whisper, “You smell angry.”
    “You’re smelling motorcycle exhaust, sweat, and whatever kind of beer that is on the floor here.”
    “Don’t argue with a born Cougar about what he smells or doesn’t smell. You’re pissed.”
    She climbed onto a stool and pried two sticky menus from the nearby rack apart from each other. “Well, if I were, could you really blame me? There are so many things I could be pissed about.”
    He took the stool to her left, but was still leaning into her. “But there are only a few things that would make you so pissed so fast. Is this about December?”
    “
What
?”
    “The waitress.”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    The woman named
December
, of all stinking things, appeared to Sean’s left and stepped up onto the foot rail, leaning onto the bar top. “Do you want your usual, or have you developed a distaste for bloody meat in the year since I’ve seen you?” She made a
bleh
sound and crossed her eyes.
    Oh, isn’t she cute.
Hannah drummed her fingertips atop the bar hard enough to bend her nails.
    He grinned, and blood filled Hannah’s mouth.
    Shit.
    Her fangs had dropped. She clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her tongue across her teeth.
Go back in!
    “Oh, I still have a taste for rare meat,” he said.
    “With all the peppers, too?”
    “Yep.”
    De-
freakin’
-cember started walking away, but Sean grabbed her gently by the wrist.
    Hannah’s inner cat damned near tossed herself on the imaginary floor in her mind and pitched a fit.
Shut up, cat. She can have him.
    “Hannah, do you know what you want?” he asked.
    December giggled and gave herself a thump to the forehead. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were together.”
    Hannah giggled, too, imitating December’s little tittering sound, and tucked the menu back into its holder, keeping her hand over her mouth. She said through her fingers, “I’d like a pint of whatever’s cheap, and the bison burger. Medium.”
    December jotted it down, her tongue darting out to the corner as her lips as she wrote, as if spelling was a chore.
    Okay, next contestant! She’s not good enough.
    “Okie dokie. Be right back.” December tottered away in her daisy dukes and cowboy boots, and Sean hitched his elbow onto the bar top. “Be nice.”
    Hannah rolled her eyes and scooped a handful of wasabi peas out of the nearby bowl. They were