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Maybe Graham is right.
Maybe it is time to cut her loose.
“You’re not Graham.” The guy behind the counter observes sharply. He is good looking. Actually, good looking doesn’t even begin to describe it. He looks like the dudes you see on romance novels. Tan, ripped and sporting that gorgeous cocky grin that makes women consider things like rimming and anal. Yes, that good looking. He is also familiar and has an Irish accent to die for. Seriously, what do they feed them in Ireland that make them grow into such handsome, tough, badass specimen?
“No, I’m not Graham,” I say, leaning my hip against his counter.
His shop is nothing like I’ve ever seen before. They sell everything, from keys to knives and they have a backyard full of metal junk. I don’t know how to explain it, but the place looks about as legal as a sweat shop.
“You figured out that one quickly.” I smile sarcastically, checking out his place. Everything is cluttered and stuffy and the air is musty. I don’t like it here.
“Ah, you’re a funny one,” his Irish twang sing-songs. I sneak another glare at him and decide that he’s familiar.
As if sensing my confusion, he states, “I’m the bouncer at Hot N’ Bothered.”
“Oh, that’s right. You were the one who escorted my friend, Jade, to her cab.”
I only remember this piece of information because Jade spend forty minutes telling me how hot he was and how she’d have totally tried to bang him if it wasn’t for my scary-as-shit stepfather.
“Aye, that’s me. Carter.” He reaches to shake my hand.
“I’m Dahlia, but everyone calls me Dahl.”
“Okay, Dahlia.”
“I just said Dahl.” I cock one eyebrow, amused, and he sends a condescending smirk my way.
“Sweetheart, I reckon your daddy will cut my balls and feed them to me if I call you by your nickname. He’s not a patient man when it comes down to things that belong to him.”
I am at a loss for words. What? Graham has warned people off about me? Since when? And what does he mean by “I’m his?” I’m not anyone’s. This is beyond ridiculous and despite the fact Carter is nice eye candy, I think I’ve had enough. I wave in his general direction, huffing.
“Right. Can you just give me the keys please?” I ask. He nods once and disappears behind a wood door leading to the back of his store. I tap my nails on the glass counter under me, blowing a lock of blonde hair from my face. I’m so smitten with Graham, I sometimes forget how controlling he can be. First, he kicks my mom out of the house, she had it coming, she’s been abusing this arrangement ever since they signed those papers, and now he’s warning people about not getting near me…or using my nickname. I fish out my phone to text Jade and tell her I’m standing across from her crush.
Dahl (06:44)
Guess where I am.
Jade (06:45)
Inside Daddy Savage’s boxers? Playing with his magic wand?
Dahl (06:45)
Get your mind out of the gutter, please. I’m in the Bronx getting some new keys for my house and guess who is working here?
Jade (06:46)
Channing Tatum!
Dahl (06:49)
Dude, you’re so lame at this game. No. The bouncer who got you in the cab that night we were caught.
Jade (06:50)
NO WAY! Send me a pic. And give him my phone number.
Dahl (06:50)
