Page 26 of Misadventures And Ms. Demeanor

Oh great. They thought I was Silky Tangles.

"Look, guys, I'm not who you think I am."

Jared's gaze raked down my body, grinned. "Right. Incognito." He looked left and right, leaned close and lowered his voice. "We won't tell anyone. We promise, don't we, Paul?"

Jared's leer matched Paul's sleazy look. They were certainly not thinking pure thoughts at the moment. "Yeah, we promise."

"Look, guys, I'm flattered and all, but I'm not into sharing."

An arm came around my shoulder from behind. "Neither am I."

I tensed before realizing it was JT and relaxed into his hold, his hand warm on my upper arm. Even through the smoke and the spilled beer aroma, I picked up JT's clean scent. I could handle brushing off a guy because I never really considered myself much of a catch, but two guys who thought I was a sexual acrobat and into ménage on film, was something else entirely. Silky Tangles seemed to have a lot of followers and they were all in Montana. Actually, because of me, the real Silky Tangles was probably stalker free. Wherever she was.

"Right, baby?" He leaned in and whispered close to my ear. I felt his breath fan my nape. The possessiveness I heard in JT's voice was not only a relief, but a total turn-on. He was a complete asshat, but it felt good to have a guy watch out for me. Even if it was a complete act.

"You're going to play hard to get? Seriously? Is this how you treat your fans?" Paul asked.

"Is this how you treat women?" I countered, hand on hip.

"You're not a woman, you're a porn star. At least show us your tits." Jared reached out to tuck a finger under the hem of my t-shirt.

That's when I grabbed his wrist and twisted it sideways with my left hand while I punched him in the nose with my right.

After that, all hell broke loose.

Paul said something nasty, JT tackled him to the ground, breaking a table in the process. Jared covered his bleeding nose and called me a really offensive name not even used in porn flicks. By the time I kneed him in the groin, the bartender had come around the bar to grab my arm.

Of course, it would have just been a bar brawl and we wouldn't have been arrested if the Hardin police department wasn't in lane four and cranky from losing to the volunteer firedepartment the next lane over. Team Bowl Movement took us to jail while team Ebowla dealt with Jared's broken nose.

8

"Arrested twice in three days, Daphne, is not something to be proud of." Aunt Velma's voice was what woke me. My head felt like a bowling ball, my tongue needed to be shaved and I smelled like beer. I'd open my eyes wider than narrow slits, but I was afraid the overhead light might blind me.

"Don't talk so loud," I groaned.

"Here."

I opened one eye carefully and saw four pills resting in Aunt Velma's palm along with a tiny paper cup of water. I took the pills and guzzled the water, although it was only about a swallow's worth.

"We go to sleep and the next thing I know I'm being called down to the police station. Again."

Police station? Oh shit.

I sat up and looked around and wished I hadn't. So much for stupid college rhymes. My head was about to explode. I was once again in a jail cell, these cinder block walls painted a lovely shade of mauve. The bed was once again hard and the smell was the same institutional scent as in Bozeman. "Where's JT?"

"Goldie's bailing him out now. I expected you to punch him again, not someone else."

I ran my hand over my hair and felt it sticking out in the back. I felt like road kill and I probably looked like it, too. "JT isn't the only asshat around," I replied dryly.

"You started a bar brawl, Daphne." The sound of her voice had me turning my head. She wasn't angry; she was trying not to laugh.

I cracked a smile, quickly discovering that doing any kind of grinning would make my head hurt too much. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"You've got some serious anger management issues."

I closed my eyes and sighed. I was sitting in a jail cell. Again. I definitely had issues.

When a woman tookthe Walk of Shame, usually it was after a one-night stand. Since that would be too cool for me—either a guy didn't want me, like Roger, or guys wanted me too much, like those losers at the bowling alley—I'd had to come up with my own kind of personal hell.