The Trouble With Scarecrows (The Trouble With Men Book 2) by Dorlana Vann Page A

door but remembered Elizabeth. “Shit.” This sucked. He found her and explained that a family emergency had come up. Just as he’d expected, she gave a nonchalant, “Okay,” and went back to work, which made him feel even worse. And just like that, thanks to Brenda, his no-strings-attached night disappeared.
    Neal Parker had never been a scarecrow before. He’d heard all about it from Rocky. It was actually a ploy to bed women who refused him because of his reputation. So he guessed asking him to be a scarecrow for a girl, sight unseen, was a lot to ask of his cousin. Especially since he’d used the password “cuz-code” when he’d talk to him. He hadn’t said those words in over ten years. It meant hands-off. He’d told himself that the reason he’d said it was because he didn’t want anything screwing up the agreement. Of course Rocky had had a lot of questions and comments: “Cuz-code? Why do you want me to go out with a girl to find a dude if you like her? If you like her, why not be the scarecrow yourself? It’s never failed me. You know this isn’t a real thing, right? There is no way I’d ever let a doll leave with another dude.”
    “It could work for real,” Neal said to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of Nora’s Wine Bar. He wiped his hands on his shirt and stepped out of his truck.
    Neal spotted Brenda at the bar. He tried to ignore the way his heart immediately sped up. Brenda sat on a tall stool with her back to the bar, her legs shapely under her knee-high skirt that was slit high up the side. At first glance, her dress seemed conservative, but it was unbuttoned down to the middle of her chest. She knew how to dress, hinting at just enough to make a man want to see more. If Neal hadn’t already known her, he would’ve been immediately drawn to her. Whether he would have introduced himself or not was another question. He might have thought her out of his league, in the money division.
    She laughed at what one of the two men, who stood on either side of her, said. The one on her right took the opportunity to eye the slight bounce of her breasts, which sent a surprising surge of heat to Neal’s face.
    “Brenda,” he said as he approached. “Sorry I’m late.”
    Brenda looked at him, confusion in her eyes and then relief. “Will you excuse me, please?” she said to the men. She stood up, the men helping her like she was a dancer. They stayed, sipping their drinks, watching her turn to Neal. But then Neal moved his head slightly to the right, eyeing them, letting them know their gawks were no longer allowed. They mumbled something to each other and then left.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” Brenda asked.
    “Rocky couldn’t make it.”
    “Well, I’m not paying you.”
    Ungrateful . . . “The hell you’re not! I had to leave work right in the middle of my shift. Look, I didn’t—”
    “Fine.” She huffed and then rolled her eyes at him in disgust. “Well, that explains why you’re wearing what you’re wearing. You’d better not screw this up.”
    Neal shrugged. “Whatever.” He turned to the bartender. “The lady will have another of whatever she’s drinking, and I’ll take an IPA.”
    When the bartender set the drinks in front of them he said, “Fourteen dollars.”
    Neal told Brenda. “Pay the man.”
    A look of pure hatred crossed her face as she reached into her little purse and pulled out a twenty. Neal had to turn his head so she wouldn’t see his smile. He doubted she’d ever paid for a drink in her life. When he’d composed himself, he leaned back with his elbows on the bar and stared out into the crowd. Not his type of place, but he liked the atmosphere. It was kind of rustic and manly with brown leather chairs and square bare tables.
    “So how’s it going?” he asked after a moment.
    “Are you supposed to be talking to me?”
    He wasn’t sure. He wondered what he’d do if he approached a woman in a bar who he had thought was alone,