Page 19 of Good Girls Beg

"It's not a setup," Mr. Middle said as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. "We have…reasons for wanting to maintain our privacy." There was no apology in his tone, no compromise. We were doing this his way, or not at all.

I didn't know what brand his clothes were, but they looked expensive. A hint of a tattoo showed in the neckline of his dark blue button down. The seams were too well sewn to burst, although his biceps were putting pressure on them.

He was big, solid. His build like a quarterback. Was he a professional athlete? That might be why he wanted to maintain his privacy. People got weird about sports stars. I'd been known to swoon over them a time or two myself. A few of them owned holiday homes in Saltgrave that they frequented every summer. Occasionally, they'd come into Loams for a drink.

Of course, I was always professional, keeping my swooning to myself. Or leaving it to my fathers.

If Mr. Middle was an athlete, what did that make the other two then? His bodyguards? They were both almost as big as he was. Ink peered out from the sleeve of Mr. Bored's shirt. I couldn't make out what it was but I suspected he had a full sleeve under there.

That was more information than I got from our zoom call, but not enough to identify them with their faces covered. Would I recognize them without their masks on? I had no idea.

"Are you going to elaborate on those reasons?" I propped my elbows on the table, my gaze going from one to the other. Electricity crackled around us. Even with masks on—okay, because of them—they threatened to make me ruin my panties. What can I say? I was a sucker for a mystery man as much as the next woman. This was like something straight out of a dark romance novel. Should I be running right now? Would they chase me?

Should I be thinking along these lines? Probably not, but the idea of ducking and weaving through the trunks of the trees, them hot on my heels, made the palms of my hands break out in a sweat. Which one of them would catch me? Would they fuck me up against the trunk of a tree?

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose and hoped like hell they didn't realize why I needed to calm my racing heart. If they could read my mind right now, they'd see moaning and bodily fluids.

"In time," Mr. Middle said. "First, we need to know if you're serious about saving your father's bar."

That was like a cold bucket of water tossed over me. What the hell kind of question was it? Why would I be here if I wasn't serious? Honestly, I should be asking them that question. That and a bunch more.

I sat back and crossed my arms. "I'm not sure this is fair. You know more about me than I do about you." I didn't like being messed with and I hated people wasting my time. If that's all this was, then I should get up right now and leave. Not run, just walk away slowly toward my car as if I hadn't been thinking filthy thoughts a couple of moments ago.

"Do we care if you think it's fair or not?" Mr. Bored asked.

I gaped at him for a moment before placing my hands on the table, ready to push myself to my feet.

"Fuck this."

I shouldn't have come here in the first place. This whole situation was beyond ridiculous. These guys were doing nothing but screwing with me. Figuratively, that was. Literal screwing was absolutely not going to happen.

I ignored the sting in the corners of my eyes. It was bad enough they were messing with me but they were also messing with my dads, and that was not right. Thank fuck I hadn't told them about any of this. They would have gotten their hopes up, only to have them ripped to shreds.

"Wait," Blondie said quickly. "We care. Yeah, this is weird as fuck. It's because—" He glanced at the other two men. “We don’t usually do…stuff like this.”

I hesitated for a moment before crossing my arms again and sitting back.

“I don't usually do…stuff like this either," I said evenly "Meeting with three masked men out in the park? This is not a daily basis thing."

Especially not with kids so close. Could these three even be trusted around them? I wouldn't be surprised if someone called the cops on them. I wouldn't rule out doing it myself. I should have insisted we meet somewhere else. Somewhere more private. With thicker, sturdy trees. Then we could…

I shoved the thought away. This wasn't a romance novel. This was… I don't even know what this was.

"Just fucking random guys in a parking lot," Mr. Bored said, half under his breath.

My gaze swiveled to him. How had he known that was me? Did he know or was he guessing?

I looked back at Blondie, but I couldn't read anything past his mask. His eyes only gave away uncertainty. Concern that I might still get up and leave. That concern was well-founded.

"I'm serious about wanting to save Loams," I said finally. "I don't want to play games."

They had approximately thirty seconds to explain what the hell was going on here or I really was out of here.

"This is a waste of time," Mr. Bored said. "She's not going to bite."

Mr. Middle didn't move. He kept his intense gaze on me the entire time.

"She's going to play," he said, sounding very certain. "We have what she needs, and she has what we want."