asked Violet. Or, as he’d come to refer to her in his mind because he was convinced she had eight hands, Octopussy.He glared down at her, infuriated by her shitty behavior. “What do you mean, what am I doing?”She tried to yank her arm away from his grasp as he escorted her toward the front porch of Winnie and Ben’s, planning to deposit her right outside where she belonged—away from polite, nonjudgmental company.“I think you’d better let go of me. This can’t be appropriate!” she ordered, her face flushed.He paused after pulling her out onto the wide porch and frowned. This from the woman who’d literally lunged at him and stuck her tongue down his throat after one blind date arranged by a friend?“Appropriate? You’re one to talk, Violet,” he rumbled. After she’d openly, purposely insulted Bernie, Violet had taken off to freshen up, which gave him a moment to gather his wits so he could remain a gentleman. But no way was he going to let her behavior go unaddressed.Yet, she was backing away from him as though he were Satan himself.
