Cat gave Paige a cool glare, daring her to say anything in Noah’s favor.

“I’m wondering if maybe we should try to keep the peace. We’re going to be here until Christmas. That’s five weeks that could be beyond miserable if we give Noah any reason at all to make things difficult for us here.”

Cat gnawed on her lip. Backing down from a fight was not in the King nature.

“How about you just keep him far, far away from me, and he’ll live to be an asshole another day?”

“I feel like I should go talk to him and find out just what his problem with my daughter is,” Angela mused out loud.

“No talking to him,” Cat ordered. “I will drink this drink instead of throwing it in his face, but no one is going to engage Noah in anything other than hand-to-hand combat.” She grabbed at the server’s arm as the woman swung past the table. “Another Jameson, please.”

“Question from the peanut gallery,” Paige raised her hand. “Why does Noah get under your skin like that? You’re used to being underestimated. And, if I may point out, you usually revel it.”

Cat pointed a rigid index finger at Paige. “Don’t say it.” She could hear her friend’s thoughts clear as a bell.

“Maybe there’s sparks flying because there’s some kind of attraction going on,” Angela said, fluffing her dark hair.

“Mom!”

“Paige is right,” Angela continued, immune to Cat’s sharp tone. “You usually let this stuff roll right off your back and then crush the undeserving, underestimating ass like a cockroach under your heel. You never waste time stewing about it.”

Cat drummed her fingers on the table. “I’m not stewing.”

“Maybe not stewing,” Paige said in a way that made Cat think stewing was exactly what she meant. “But there’s something about this guy that gets to you. And all we’re saying is what if it’s not hate?”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to accept this asshole yelling obscenities at me in the street as flirting?”

“Point taken,” Paige nodded graciously. “I think your mom and I are just wondering if there’s something else there besides abject hate.”

“Not on this side. I can assure you,” Cat said, swigging back her Cosmo and letting the vodka do its thing. She had very strong feelings for Noah. Murderously strong. And she wasn’t interested in psychoanalyzing exactly why he got to her.

The server dropped off her Jameson and wisely retreated without any comment.

“Excuse me.” A gritty voice interrupted Cat’s mental gymnastics. The man was in his fifties. He had a broad, flat nose. A hefty beer belly strained the seams of his shirt and suspenders.

“Well if it isn’t my old friend…”

“Regis,” the man supplied, dipping his head in an awkward half-bow.

Paige was already sliding off her stool as if to intervene.