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The soft ring of a bell sounded off as the front door was pushed open, allowing a caressing breeze of fresh air to slip inside.A man who looked rough around the edges, who easily was in his mid-to late thirties stepped inside the establishment. Layne didn’t bother taking her eyes off the pint in front of her.
She picked up on the sound of the stool next to her dragged across the floor a few inches and felt the new presence perch on it right beside her. Didn’t people have common decency anymore? The entire rest of the bar had seating available and this person couldn’t at least sit one more seat over as a courtesy as to not encroach on her personal bubble?
Not too long after the newcomer settled in, the husky scent of sage and leather drifted her way. It was pleasant on the senses, not aggressively applied, and for a brief moment, made her want to lean in a little closer.
“Who do you have to kill to get a drink ‘round here?” The stranger next to her spoke up. His voice bore a tone that prickled at her most intimate desires. It wasn’t clear who he was speaking to. One thing was painfully clear, he had never stepped foot inside this place before.
Here’s the thing about McGregor’s; it was always the same damn crowd, which had its pluses and minuses. It was rare to have new faces finding themselves coming in here. Not only was it off the beaten path and had an aesthetic that looked worse for wear, but it also had an ill-conceived reputation. Her family may or may not have had something to do with all that.
Tiredly, Layne set her pint down on the counter and drew in a breath, transforming it into a forced smile as she looked over the guy next to her, “First time?”
The moment her eyes focused on him, the air in her lungs vanished as she temporarily forgot how to breathe. Across his square jaw was a light layer of scruff, dirty blonde hair haphazardly styled longer on top and shorter on the sides, eyes the color of bitter dark chocolate, and a body that screamed either prison time or professional model.
It was just a hunch, but from the look of the tattoo creeping up the side of his neck, it was likely the former. The inked wings on the side of his neck wasn’t the only tattoo either. The tops of his hands and fingers also had various images and symbols etched into his flesh. Without leaning over and appearing as intrigued as she truly was, the only piece of art she could make out was a thorny stem and the bottom half of a toothy grin of a skull before the sleeve of his jacket concealed the rest of it.
Her very core immediately reacted to the easy-on-the-eyes stranger situated next to her.A sense of excitement was building as she realized that he wasn’t part of the typical clientele that came to this spot.
The man was dressed in a pair of work boots, rugged jeans, a black tank, and a silver chain draped around his neck that disappeared into his shirt. To top it all off was a black leather jacket that looked well-worn in multiple aspects. The day may have suddenly started looking up.
Layne internally appreciated the fresh face but avoided entanglements with random men she met at shady, rundown bars - even here at McGregor’s.Those types of guys were the ones that were more trouble than they were worth. This one looked like a hell of a lot more trouble than average, that’s for sure. The temptation to break her own rule was already beginning to taint her thoughts.
He didn’t even try to hide the fact he gave her a solid once-over from head to toe. All he did was smirk. “It hasn’t been my first time since I was fourteen.” There was the not-so-subtle insinuation that he wasn’t talking about his first visit to McGregor’s anymore. Oh, yes, this one had epically bad news written all over him.Layne wondered how many hearts he had broken in the last month alone. If she had a heart to break, she would love to see him try.
“Oh, be still my heart. I bet that type of charm gets all the girls dropping their panties for you,” she mockingly replied, a hand coming to her chest for a dramatic gesture.
Amused, he leaned in a little closer to her so she could inhale a little more of that intoxicating cologne, “You offering?”
Cocky son of a bitch. Attempting to keep her head on straight, Layne quickly changed the topic before it devolved any further. “If you want a drink, rest assured that you won’t need to commit a felony.Sean is in the back, he’ll be out in a minute.”
“In that case,” the stranger leaned over the bar and reached into the well, lifting up a bottle of whiskey and grabbing a rocks glass on the nearby drying plate. Layne perked an eyebrow as she stared in disbelief wondering if this guy was for real as he began pouring the amber liquid into the glass for himself.
“You can’t just…” she initially struggled to pull together a coherent thought as he thought he could just help himself to a drink here.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She snatched the bottle out of his hand and set it down on the other side of her. “You don’t just walk in here and serve yourself.” Given her family’s oversight of McGregor’s books and business, she felt duty-bound to protect their asset. Layne scoffed that he had the balls to think he could do as he saw fit.
All she got back in response from him was an entertained grin, and he raised the glass of whiskey in the air slightly, “Cheers.” He downed the mouthful of booze followed by extending his hand out towards her, “Joey. Joey De Luca.”
With his hand outstretched towards her she blinked a few times, skeptically looking it over. So, the skull tattoo on his hand indeed continued up towards his wrist. Across its head were deep red petals of a rose sitting there like a floral crown. Finally, she extended her hand to him, but before she could give it a shake, he embraced it and drew it to his lips where a delicate kiss was laid on her knuckles.
Was he trying to be some sort of knight in shining armor pulling out all the moves in an attempt to woo her? It may have been just a little effective as her cheeks fostered a slight warmth. Men didn’t go to such lengths to get her attention, nor did she go around looking for those that did. Typically, it was just a catcall or in some cases a decision to lay a smack on her ass.Both instances always ended poorly for the guy. Dating apps were so much easier in weeding out some of the assholes.
“I’m Layne.” Her skin was still tingling where he had kissed her, and she was trying her damnedest not to pay any attention to it. She was utterly failing at the latter.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Layney.” The way he uttered the word ‘pleasure’ felt intentionally intimate, especially as his hand was still embracing hers. His thumb rubbed over her fingers idly.
Layne pulled back her hand from his before her hormones got any more bright ideas more so than they already were. Today was not about getting laid, but damn if the universe wasn’t trying to make it happen.
“Don’t call me ‘Layney’.” That nickname was what her mother had always called her, and now it was just too painful to let anyone else have the privilege.
“Why not? I think it suits you.” Joey ran his tongue over his lips as those inviting brown eyes took in the sight of her again.
“Because, then I’d have to kick your ass out of here. I wouldn’t want you to suffer that embarrassment.” She smirked at him, knowing that she had bruised a metric ton of male egos. Joey wouldn’t be the first, and he wouldn’t be the last.
He chuckled. “I’d like to see a little thing like you try. You’re what? Five-foot?”
“Five-one.” She rolled her eyes after correcting him. “You’re what? Like six-foot with three inches below the belt?”
Apparently, his ego wasn’t easily bruised. Instead of taking offense, he bantered back. “Six-two and I will let you check what’s below the belt right now.” His hand moved down to the waist of his pants, tugging on the tail of his belt, willing to prove her assessment of his other measurements wrong.
