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I’m just about to tear my gaze from the hot guy when Michael eyes me and waves for me to come over. I excuse myself from the table and head over to where they are. Flashing a smile at both men, I say, “Hey Michael,” and then I turn to his friend and say, “Hi, I’m Presley.”
The guy’s eyes light up and he stands. Putting
his hand out to shake mine, he says, “Presley, we finally meet.”
Oh good lord, I would know that voice anywhere. It’s the Kentucky Fire voice from earlier today. And the voice matches the looks. Diesel’s as hot as they come with an easy smile that lights up his face, dimples that would grab any woman’s attention, and scruff that makes him even more irresistible. His dark hair is shaved close to his head, his arms are covered in colourful tattoos, and his ears are pierced with spacers. He’s the quintessential rocker with jeans that hug his legs, a fitted black t-shirt that paints his muscles, chains around his neck, rings on his fingers, and heavy black boots.
I shake his hand and then try to let go, but he keeps hold, so I’m left standing there in limbo waiting for my hand back. “Hi,” I say with uncertainty, waiting for him to release me, and feeling like I’m on the back foot here. Like he’s got all the control here. And I hate feeling that way.
He grins and eventually drops my hand but his eyes are all over me. This guy manages to fluster me and piss me off all in one go; not a good combination. When his eyes meet mine again, he flirts with me as relentlessly as he did on the phone this morning. “You’re everything I imagined you’d be, darlin’”
I roll my eyes. I’ve managed to regain my sense of control, and although he’s hot as hell and smooth as they come, I’m not even vaguely interested. “And you’re everything I wish you weren’t.”
The twinkle in his eye doesn’t escape me. God, I’m not trying to encourage him, but it seems that everything I say is exactly what he likes to hear. “Please keep talking, ‘cause every damn word out of your mouth is getting me hard,” he says, and I’m so relieved Jett is nowhere in sight.
Time to get the hell out of here. “It was good to meet you, but I’ve gotta get back to my table.” I quickly turn to Michael and promise, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I’ve made up my mind – I’m not working with Diesel. He couldn’t pay me enough money to ever work with him.
Diesel’s hand lands on my arm and he moves it to grasp my wrist and halt me. “Have you made a decision yet?” he asks, his eyes steady on mine, as if I’m the only person in the room.
I don’t want to get into my decision with him because I know his type; he’ll do everything to try and get me to change my mind. “No, I’m still thinking it over,” I lie. “I know you need an answer yesterday so I’ll definitely have one for you soon.”
He regards me for a moment and then says, “I look forward to it.”
I’m just about to turn and leave when a deep voice sounds from behind me.
“Get your hand off my woman, Diesel.”
I wait for Jett’s hands to slide around my waist but he simply steps next to me to confront Diesel.
“I didn’t realise she was your woman, Jett,” Diesel responds without letting me go, but I shake my arm free and take a step back.
“She is.” Jett doesn’t say much but his voice holds a warning. However, Diesel doesn’t seem like the kind of man to listen to warnings. He strikes me as the kind of man who lives his life on his own terms and fuck what anyone else says.
“I don’t see a ring on her finger.” Diesel stands firm and I groan on the inside.
Men!
I interrupt their dick-slinging back and forth. “I’m with Jett, Diesel, and I certainly don’t need a ring to prove that,” I say with force. He needs to hear this, and he needs to leave us be, because Jett’s getting more worked up every second we stand here.
Diesel shifts his gaze from Jett to me and asks, “Is he the reason you’re having trouble deciding about the job?”
Well, shit. Now he’s dumped me in it.
Jett’s head swings around to face me. “What job is he talking about?”
I don’t like the way he demands that and my temper begins to unravel as well. Catching Diesel’s attention again, I answer his previous question. “No, he’s got nothing to do with my decision and now if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got something to talk about.” With that, I ignore all of them and stalk outside, hoping Jett will follow me, because we’re about to have a discussion about his jealousy.
As I step outside onto the footpath, the warm September evening greets me with a whisper of humidity, and I’m thankful I chose a dress tonight over jeans. I turn around to find Jett following close by, the hard set of his jaw revealing his mood. His shift from easy-going Jett to jealous Jett has been swift and it’s brought with it a whole new dimension to our relationship. One I don’t care for.
“Are you going to tell me what he’s talking about?” he throws at me as soon as he meets me outside, and it just annoys me further. I’d hoped we could discuss this without his bad mood getting in the way.
“Are you going to back down and let me tell you without having you get the shits at me?”
His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something but clearly realises that’s a bad idea and quickly closes it again. In the end, he simply nods.
My heart rate has picked up and I’m fighting my own anger now. I try hard to express myself without letting that interfere, but I struggle. “Diesel has offered me a job touring with them for a couple of months, photographing their tour.”
