“You never call me Roslyn.” She had mentioned her name several times during her visits since she ditched the boy toy, but I stuck with “ma’am” since I didn’t want to give her the wrong idea. I propped a hip on the chair opposite her and gazed down at her steadily.

“Nope. I sure don’t.”

She batted her eyelashes at me and lifted her fingers to play with the fancy and obviously expensive necklace at her neck.

“You should. I would love for us to be friends.”

I tossed my head back and laughed. If her forehead hadn’t been chemically pumped with Botox, I bet she would have frowned at me. Instead her mouth went flat.

“You don’t want to be friends, Roslyn. You want something I told you isn’t on the menu. I’m not interested.” For bigger reasons than Royal. There was no way I was even going to crack that door open a little bit. Easy was addictive and I had gone cold turkey. I wasn’t going back.

She reached out and clasped my hand as I pushed off the table when one of the bachelorette party started to pull off her clothes. Church caught my eye, shook his head, and moved toward the noise and revelry. I looked down at the woman and her desperate hold on my hand. I didn’t remember easy feeling so suffocating. There was something wrong here. There was a level of anxiety and want pouring off of this woman that felt toxic and dangerous. It was like she was throwing down this gauntlet not because she wanted to, but because something was telling her she had to. I didn’t like anything about it or how uneasy it was making me feel.

“Anything is on the menu for the right price. Do you want to bartend for the rest of your life, Asa? Isn’t there something more out there? Don’t you want more for yourself?”

I had. I had wanted more than more, I wanted it all, and it had nearly killed me and almost destroyed my only family. Now I just wanted what little I could do for myself and a brief minute of blinding perfection that was Royal Hastings. It was more than enough.

“No, more is an inescapable trap because it’s never enough. I’m not sure you’re really suggesting what I think you are, but I have to say I’m not exactly thrilled that you think I would be into that.”

She let go of my wrist, pushed her chair back, and rose elegantly to her feet. She considered me thoughtfully for a second before picking up her purse. “I like pretty things. Men are complicated and more of a headache than I can endure. My dating days are long past, but I still like to have a good time and be treated well. I’ve learned one surefire way to make that happen is to offer something most men want, lots of available sex and money. I like to take care of people that take care of me. You’re beautiful, Asa. I would make any time we spent together very much worth your while.”

I just bet she would and I hated that there was a greedy, snapping buzz under my skin just popping at me to take her up on her seedy and scandalous offer.

“I don’t have sex for money and I don’t take advantage of lonely women no matter how attractive they may be.” At least I didn’t do any of those things anymore. She was a couple years and a near-death experience too late. “I’m not in the market for a sugar mama, Roslyn, and frankly you need to be more careful who you invite to keep you company.”

She pursed her lips and moved past me with a haughty air of offense, like I had somehow been the one in the wrong. “I won’t be back.”

I nodded at her. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Her gaze skimmed over me one last time. “What a waste.” And then she was gone. Church walked over to where I was staring after her with an obviously disturbed look on my face. He lifted a pitch-black eyebrow at me and I wished I could read what was going on in the fathomless dark of his calculating gaze.

“Everything okay?” Church was from somewhere deep in Mississippi, so his drawl was far more pronounced than mine. He even had a really deep and gravelly growl that was kind of similar to Johnny Cash’s unmistakable tone. With the voice and the sandy hair that contrasted with his darker complexion, it was no wonder he was constantly fending off overly zealous female admirers. Ladies loved a good brooder and I don’t think I had ever met anyone that brooded better than Church.

I lifted a hand and rubbed it over my face. “I just got propositioned to be a gigolo.”

“Shit. No kidding?” He turned to look in the direction Roslyn had disappeared in. “That’s pretty fucked.”

I looked at him and dug my phone out of my back pocket. “I guess no matter how far you come, how far you go, once you’ve been on the bottom long enough, it just sticks to you. It identifies who you’re always going to be. She obviously thought I was the kind of guy that would be up for fucking for a few bucks.”