Page 8 of Sin for You

“Numerous things, Bull. Numerous things. So you gonna fuck her or what?”

I stiffened.

“Jesus Christ, Dane. You’re about as subtle…as a wrecking ball,” Cal said, stumbling over his words a little. After an accident with Cassy’s brother, resulting in the guy’s death and Cal suffering a traumatic brain injury, he’d had to learn to talk again. He still had trouble from time to time.

Dane shrugged.

I looked between them, and even Cassy wouldn’t meet my eyes. Is that what they thought? What they all thought? That I wanted Quinn for myself? I barely held down another growl. “Watching out for her, that’s all.”

“Oh suuuure,” Dane said, that twinkle back in his eyes. “You just growled at some guy for touching her, like full-on, from-the-back-of-the-throat, possessed-by-demons shit.”

“It’s not like that. Made a promise to Mase, that’s all.”

“And the look on your face,” Dane said, ignoring me completely. “I thought your head was gonna start spinning on your neck.”

“You’re wrong,” I said, wiping down the bar in front of me. “Now fuck off. People are waiting for drinks.”

Dane shrugged again and headed toward a group of girls, and Cassy grabbed Cal’s hand and tugged him toward the dance floor. He looked less than thrilled. I would have laughed if I wasn’t still pissed about what Dane had said. Or that it was obvious Cal was full of shit. The look on his face when he pulled Cassy close, moving slowly with her, ignoring the fast beat, said he didn’t mind being out there with her one bit.

But they were wrong about me. I was only looking out for Quinn, protecting her. That’s all. She just brought out that side of me. She was young, on her own. Had recently come out of an awful relationship. And she was my best friend’s baby sister, for fuck’s sake. That’s all there was to it.

And even if I wasn’t her brother’s best friend, or there wasn’t a six-year age difference, the girl wouldn’t be interested in a guy like me—Quinn could do a hell of a lot better than an emotionally stunted ex-con who preferred his own company. I was exactly the kind of guy I didn’t want anywhere near her. The kind of guy who would hurt her in the end because they were just that fucked up.

I glanced over at her. She was clearing empties from a table, and I watched as she threw her head back, laughing at something someone said.

I growled again.

Then quickly looked away.

Christ, I did sound like a demented grizzly.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Shaking the bullshit out of my head, I asked the person in front of me what they wanted. Going by their flinch, it was more a bark.

Whatever.

I put my head down and got busy pouring drinks.

And did not glance in Quinn’s direction again that night. Not once.

* * *

Quinn

“Hey, babe.”

I turned around because the babe was obviously directed at me, considering I was the only person in the vicinity. It was one thirty in the morning, the bar had cleared out, and I was cashing up, more than ready to leave for the night.

Ezra had slipped behind the huge rustic bar Bull had built and installed when he bought the place, and was closing in. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and he was swaying a little. When he got closer it was easy to see the guy wasn’t just drunk.

Not hot. So not hot.

“Why don’t we skip the drink and get straight to the good part?” he said, an obvious slur to his voice.

His hands had bracketed me, trapping me. “Not sure that’s a good idea,” I said, trying to keep things light. “Can you back up?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think you really want that.”