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I’d fallen head over heels in love with Daniel Briggs the first time I’d met him, insisting I’d marry him one day. I’d even had a photograph Mike had given me pinned to my bulletin board. Granted, I’d been seven or eight at the time and had said that about Justin Bieber, every Backstreet Boys member, and at least two kids who lived on our street.
Years later, I’d found the nerve to tell Danny the promise I’d made to myself only to have him laugh in my face, calling me a cute little pipsqueak. Even at eleven years old, I’d managed to remain a consummate actress, plastering a smile on my face while inside it had felt as if my heart had ripped to shreds by famished wolves.
I’d quietly walked away, slamming the door to my room then ripping his picture into tiny little pieces, only after doing my best to erase his face with a black magic marker. The blow had been crushing and he’d never said another word about it. That’s because to a man like Viper, a gorgeous, decorated hero with an obvious God complex, I would never be anything but Mike’s kid sister.
Stop torturing yourself. You never have to see him again.
True enough and thank God.
I tried to listen to the banter but was already bored. Coming along was a mistake.
Currently, my brother was attempting to find out everything he could about Viper’s supposed connection to some mafia organization out of New York. If he was really working for some mafia organization, then I’d keep my mouth shut about my troubles. When Mike ordered another round, I grumbled under my breath.
I had a feeling I’d be the one driving home.
Viper hadn’t as much as glanced in my direction once since arriving at the bar. We were like oil and water mixed with gasoline. Maybe it was for the best.
Sighing, I forced myself to look away, finally yanking my purse from the floor and rummaging for change. The bar had one of those old-fashioned jukeboxes, something I hadn’t seen for at least ten years. I was lucky I’d found some quarters as well as a couple of one-dollar bills. At least I could enjoy some music while waiting for my ride home. Grabbing my wine, I headed for the colorful display, passing through a second group of burly men who looked as if they wanted to plop me onto a silver platter, adding basting sauce then feasting on every inch of my body.
Ignoring at least one lewd comment, I popped in four quarters, taking my time making a few selections. I couldn’t help but be amused that the song selections were from the eighties, likely the same timeframe the bar had last been renovated. At least there were some old big hair bands I recognized. I watched as the lever selected the chosen song, sliding it into a slot. When the music began to play, I immediately swayed my hips back and forth in time to the beat. I didn’t bother turning around to face the table, even though I was itching to see if Viper had noticed I’d left it.
Nope. That wasn’t going to happen. I occupied my mind with images of hot cover models adorning the romance books that filled my Kindle, pretending as if I was in a room full of them. Blond. Brunette. I didn’t care. They were all gorgeous and hungry for a single taste of what only I could provide them.
I took a few sips of the wine, promising myself I’d never drink cheap burgundy again. After a couple of minutes, I got into the rhythm of the music, swaying back and forth. Suddenly, neither the wine nor the atmosphere seemed too bad.
When another song came on, I found myself tossing my head back and forth in time to the music.
Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me and for a few seconds, had wishful thoughts. After chastising myself for the umpteenth time, I took a deep whiff and almost vomited on the spot. The stench of sweat, stale beer, and something akin to roadkill assaulted my senses.
Then what could be described as little more than a caveman leaned against the colorful jukebox. It was obvious by his stance he was determined to catch my eye. Did the hairy dude really think he was my type or that I’d swoon over the lecherous grin on his face?
When I ignored him, perfectly happy in my fantasy, he leaned in. Suddenly, the odiferous bunch of ballplayers didn’t seem so pungent. I did what I could not to vomit a little inside my mouth. He had to know I had a ‘fuck off’ sign across my forehead, but I could tell instantly he planned on ignoring it.
“Hey, sweetheart. What do you say we get out of here? We can have a lot more fun doing the parallel slide, if you know what I mean.” He laughed and the assholes who’d crawled in with him did the same.
Those were the first words the asshole had to say to me? Really? “I’m curious about something.”
“What, my dick size? Happy to tell you that it’s nine full inches of hard chunk.”
Oh, no. He did not just say that. Not a chance. Even in today’s overindulgent society, those were considered fighting words. I planted a smile on my face, the kind that for any intelligent man would read as a clear sign to walk away before I became violent. With him, the plastic grin and venom-laced eyes seemed to turn him on. I was obviously losing my touch.
I threw a hateful look at his crotch just as he made the mistake of stroking his junk. That did it. All the times I’d been forced to hold my tongue while propositioned, fondled, dragged into a dark corner and required to accept every dirty word thrown at me after the house winning all the cash boiled to the surface.
Then I issued a statement that I’d practiced several times and had wanted to say a zillion. “Bubba, you couldn’t find your dick with a flashlight and three of your buddies helping you. I suggest you crawl back to your beastie boys where you belong.” While the instant I uttered the crude statement I felt vindicated for all the crap I’d taken, the next few seconds were a reminder that my mouth could easily get me into so much trouble. The man’s eyes held a fire that didn’t bode well for his obvious hypertension.
“You. Fucking. Bitch.” He bristled, puffing up like he was going to provide clear and unreputable evidence that I was one hundred percent wrong.
I was about ready to toss my wine in his face when suddenly, a hand wrapped around my arm, jerking me back by several feet.
“I think the lady doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Viper told him. He’d already positioned himself between me and the hulking mass of flesh. “In fact, I know it.”
I was taken aback, so used to handling jerks myself that I even though I wanted to shove Viper aside, I couldn’t react.
“This ain’t none of your business, flyboy.”
Flyboy? Where did these assholes get this shit, a B-rated movie?
“Yeah, itismy business so unless you want to be tossed out of here, I suggest you back away. Now.” Viper’s tone was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. At first, I was stunned that he’d come to my rescue, acting as if he cared about me.
