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“Need some help, honey?”
She abruptly turned around, looking up toward him, and her mouth dropped open. She had a beautiful mouth. It was sensual, ripe, and currently glossy. Her great big brown eyes were as large as saucers as she took in his size. He felt a tinge of something in his gut. Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous.
“No. No. I’m good. Thank you,” she stated abruptly with attitude and a New York accent that said “back off asshole” with every word released from her sexy lips.
“I don’t bite. Let me help you.” He began to pull the items back into her suitcase. As his fingers made contact with a silky red bra, she grabbed it from his hands. Their gazes locked and he chuckled.
He usually didn’t respond well to most women. It was strange, but he felt instantly attracted to this woman, and he didn’t even know who she was.
He kept his sex casual and one night only. He didn’t sleep over with the woman. He just did his business, found his release, and moved on. He didn’t sleep with the same woman twice. Looking this sweet, young, sexy thing over, he wondered if she would be up for it. Instantly his gut roared “no fucking way.” This one was innocent and sweet. He wasn’t that much of a bastard.
She quickly
pulled her things together and then stood up. He realized immediately why her eyes were still wide and why she was taking a few steps away from him.
“I was just helping you out.”
“I said I didn’t need help, but thank you.”
She stared at him, looking at his lips and then his face. A scowl appeared on it, and he suddenly felt guilty. Like a kid who brawled in the schoolyard, caused the fight, got the black eye, then came home to explain what happened to his mother.
What the hell?
“What?” he asked her with attitude as she clutched her bags tighter.
“Who beat you up?” she asked in a whisper then swallowed. She was intimated by him, yet she copped an attitude.
He looked her body over and saw her pretty little nipples press against the fabric of her blouse. The woman was built well. Kind of top heavy for someone so petite. He felt confident that she found him attractive, despite the bruises. He didn’t know why he instigated an argument. He didn’t chase women. He liked being alone and not committing, or rather connecting, to anyone. It hurt too badly when they left.
“What makes you think I was beaten up?”
A pretty pink blush spread across her cheeks as she looked him over then turned away.
“Are you looking for a ride?” he asked.
She clutched her things tighter. “Get lost. I don’t need a ride. My friend is coming. She’ll be here any minute.”
He wanted to laugh. She was scared of him. That thought hit home hard. He sometimes forgot about how big he was, and of course having a black eye, bruised cheekbone, and two hours’ sleep probably made him look scary.
“Good. Have good night,” he said to her, and she nodded her head as he turned to walk away. He couldn’t resist looking back. He wasn’t certain why he did. Well his cock sure the shit knew why. The woman was youthful, gorgeous, and sexy. It was two o’clock in the morning and she still looked good and naturally beautiful. She didn’t have on a lot of makeup and she wasn’t dressed as if all she cared about was money.
He looked her over and then she turned toward him. He winked and gave her a smile as he looked her over again and her pretty brown eyes turned into saucers again.
He chuckled aloud for the first time in a long time as he headed to the parking lot.
Maybe she was way younger than he thought. Perhaps thinking of her tonight when he finally got into bed would help him to sleep.
* * * *
Sniper opened his eyes and rubbed them as he sat on the side of his bed wishing he had gotten more sleep. His flight from Vegas hadn’t gotten in until two this morning, and then he drove out to the house to get some much-needed rest. This last fighting event was a long one. The final match against some crazy kid from Philly was rough. Now Sniper’s jaw ached and he had some bruising along his eye bone and cheek. As he rubbed his hands against his face, he cringed as his long, thick fingers made contact with the bruises.
He immediately thought of the sexy, black-haired beauty at the airport. His bruises obviously scared her. Not that he even knew who she was, or that he would ever see her again. He didn’t date. He didn’t do commitments. A young woman, as classy and sweet as she looked, despite her centerfold body, wouldn’t last with him. Even if he was willing to date. A one-night stand to cure an itch was enough. The beauty from the airport was not one-night-stand material.
He shook his head, wondering why the heck he was even thinking about her.
He stood up and stretched out his six-foot-four frame. He should really eat some breakfast, go for a run, then hit the gym for a few hours, but he was tired. He could hear the voices coming from the kitchen. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one left in the house this late in the morning. The Haas Ranch had become his home the moment Sam, Jordan, Tysen, and Elise had adopted him and his brother Brody when they were kids. The Haas brothers had become their fathers instantly, and their love, their firm hand and upbringing kept Waylon and Brody out of trouble and safe to live like a kid should live. They learned fast that a work ethic was important in succeeding in life, and the Haas brothers enforced that big-time. He smirked at the thought. He had been a bit resistant in his youth. He was eight and Brody was six when they adopted them. It was tough, but Elise, their mom, was an angel, a woman with a heart of gold and strength of steel.
The ranch was run by his fathers Sam, Jordan, and Tysen Haas.
