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“What?” I demanded.
“I like that you say what you mean and you don’t hold back. I like that you don’t play any fucking games.”
“Haven’t got time for games,” I said. I dipped my finger into a dollop of chocolate on my plate and coated my lips in it.
“Some games, I’m down for,” he growled. “You almost done? I’d like to get back to the clubhouse.”
I raised a brow. “Yeah, I can guess why. But no. I’m not almost done. I’m enjoying my crepe and I’m enjoying the flirting. Also, you’re not as bad at it as you think you are.”
“I never said I was bad at flirting. I just don’t have a lot of time for it. Like you, I’m a straight shooter.”
I snorted.
“You don’t think I’m a straight shooter?”
“I think you sent me a lot of mixed signals.”
“Well, it’s been like two days. So I guess we sorted that out rather quickly, didn’t we?”
I licked my lips and reached for my coffee cup. “What is it you do for the club?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s yourjob? Carting my ass around and shadowing me isn’t your regular job.”
“And what a nice ass it is.”
“Ah, there’s that flirting in practice. And good to know you like my ass. Ass and sass.”
A laugh rumbled out of him.
“That’s pretty much all I’ve got going for me.”
“You’ve got more than that,” he assured me. “You’ve got courage, Sutton.”
“Your job, Viper,” I reminded him. “What’s your job?”
“Intimidation.”
“Huh?”
“My size,” he pointed out. “I’m the muscle. If someone’s fucking with the club, I talk to them.”
“Talk to them. You mean with your fists?”
He inclined his head. “You don’t fuck with my club. The club is family.”
“Is this the same job you did for your chapter back in South Dakota?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re more than muscle and brawn. Just like I’m more than ass and sass.”
“You think so?”
“I think you’re a secret cinnamon roll.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
