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“But Hunter is a tattoo artist,” I said, not understanding why someone so fiercely loyal to his family would go to someone else.
“Hunt took off for a while some years back. That’s how he met Fee. I still needed to get inked and Paine is just as good.”
“Sugar, honey, sweetie, darlin’,” I heard drawled behind me with a hint of a southern accent which just made it all the more appealing. When I turned, there was Shooter who I remembered Fee telling me was a sniper. He certainly didn’t look the part. “What is a a woman like you’d doing with a man like this?”
“Shoot, Lea. Lea, Shoot,” Shane said, raising the arm that was behind me and whacking Shooter on the back.
“He’s bad news,” Shooter warned, making a show of looking gravely serious.
I leaned forward toward him. “I hear you’re bad news too.”
He jerked back, hand to his chest like I stabbed him. “Oh, that hurts!” he said, giving me a grin that surely worked on the ninety-nine percent of the female population that did not belong to Shane Mallick.
“You want to get your ass kicked?” Paine, the sexy light-skinned black guy said coming up, nudging his friend. “Got a bar full of skirts and you have to hit on the one who has a man?”
“Oh, no worries,” I said, waving a hand. “Mark has already thrown his name in the cap too.”
“If you ever feel like taking a break from the Mallick brothers…” Shooter offered, taking my hand and kissing it.
“This doesn’t phase you at all?” Paine asked, gesturing at Shoot.
“Nah.”
I stiffened a bit at that, turning to look at him. “Well, why not?” I demanded.
To that, he shrugged. “‘Cause you’re not going anywhere.”
Alcohol making me even a bit bolder than usual, if that was possible, I blurted out. “You don’t know that. Shooter’s got a little something,” I said with a smile.
“Oh, shit,” Paine said, drawing my attention. He clamped a hand at the back of Shooter’s neck and pulled him away. “Have a good fight.”
I turned back to Shane, brow raised. “Well?”
“I’m not a jealous person, baby.” I opened my mouth to say something and he put two fingers on my lips, stopping me. “Being jealous of Mark or Shoot showing you attention says that I don’t trust you. I do trust you. You, however, don’t trust me. Which is something we need to work on.”
With that, his hand dropped. “I trust you,” I rushed to say.
To that, his brow raised. “The hostess of Famiglia?”
“That’s different. She was being outright disrespectful. Eye-fucking a man who is there with a woman. That is unacceptable behavior.”
“I had no interest in…”
“That’s not the point though. The point was, she disrespected me and the very idea of exclusivity by openly flirting with a guy who, at least it looked like, belonged to another woman. It’s different with Mark and Shoot because they’re joking.”
“Lea, they’re not joking,” Shane said, shaking his head a little, lips twitching. “I fuck this up? We fuck this up? They’re all over it. Shoot because, while we don’t mess with each others’ businesses, a friendly rivalry over women is fine. Mark because he would much rather ask for forgiveness than permission. They’d fuck you in a heartbeat.”
“In that case, I feel like I should be insulted that you aren’t putting them in their place about it.”
“Why?”
Because it showed he valued me. Because it said he cared. But I couldn’t bring myself to say that to him.
“Nothing. Never mind,” I said, waving a hand and turning to face the bar which made his arm drop from my shoulders.
I took a breath, trying to remind myself not to get too wrapped up, that it was doomed to fail eventually. Shane moved in behind me, arms going on the bar to either side of my body, caging me in. He leaned in close, his mouth going close to my ear, his warm breath sending chills down my body. “Just because I don’t fuck up every man who shows interest in you, doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit about you. It means I am showing self-preservation. Because if I started shit with every guy who wanted to fuck you, I’d never stop fighting. Maybe that ex of yours fucked with your head or maybe you’re like every other chick in the world who has no fucking idea how hot they are, but let’s get this shit clear now- you’re gorgeous. Men will want to fuck you. I can’t get mad about that because fact of the matter is, you choose to fuck me not them. So instead of getting pissed about them, I’m gonna go ahead and be amused by it because when the night is over and I am the one inside you, I get the last laugh.” He paused, letting that settle in. And it did, down to my bones. “So we done with this asinine conversation?”
