AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A growl forms in my chest, rumbling and fighting to break free, but I beat it back. Now isn’t the time to lose my shit over being cut off–after all, I have an image to uphold. The brand I’ve built for myself isn’t that of a crazy jealous alpha who starts fights with random betas in the middle of the street.
I might have been that way before, but not since the sponsorships started. Pretty sure an incident like that would void some contract or another.
Still, the jealous heat flames in my chest as I watch the stranger ask to take a picture of Bailey with her car.
Am I really jealous?
I’ve only just met the girl, barely had a conversation with her, and suddenly, I don’t want her talking to other guys.
Maybe I made the drink in my thermos a little stronger than I thought…
“Sure,” she says, her voice cheery as she strikes a pose next to the Lamborghini.
I watch as they take pictures, some of them even jumping in the photos with her, my jealousy peaking. Finally, the feeble restraint on the inferno swelling in my chest breaks, and I’m moving forward before I can stop myself, determined to get Bailey away from all these people so I can have her to myself again.
four
BAILEY
Ken comes out of nowhere, sliding up beside me and wrapping his arm around my waist. He pulls me into his chest, and I’m once again smothered by the sweet tang of coconut lime, melting into him without questioning it.
I’m not sure what kind of magic spell this alpha placed on me, but it’s working a little too well. Normally, I’d be put off by any man being so assertive so quickly, but with Ken, it’s different. Comfortable, almostnatural.
I decide it’s best to go with the flow and ask questions later. I’m enjoying every second of his attention too much to say no.
As soon as he’s by my side, the crowd backs off.
Some snap a final picture of us with the car, which has my cheeks warming unexpectedly, but then they disappear down the sidewalk, leaving us standing there alone. I watch them go before looking back at Ken, who’s staring down at me with a hungry fire in his eyes.
“Ken…” My voice trails off; I’m not even sure what I’d been meaning to say.
Being this close to him has my skin tingling with energy, my heart racing at a steady sprint.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, withdrawing his arm and taking a step away, like he’s afraid he’s gone too far. Truthfully, he hasn’t gone far enough, but I don’t plan to tell him that. Not yet, anyway. “They were just… I wanted to… Never mind. Bailey, this car is badass.”
Suave, protective, alpha Ken is smoldering and unquestionably sexy, but flustered, uncertain Ken is downright adorable.
Guys are so easy. Bat your eyelashes, sway your hips, show them cars, and they’re practically eating out of your hand.
I look back at the glimmering Pinkmobile with an approving smile, loving the way it twinkles under the streetlights. I’ve only had it for a couple of years, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at it.
“Thanks,” I say. “She’s definitely my baby.”
“Do you mind if I ask what you do for a living?” he asks, kneeling by the front of the car to admire the incredible rhinestone detailing. I can’t even tell him how many hours it took, but I know it was a lot.
“Of course not. I’m a real estate agent,” I say, and then continue after a brief pause. “I’m also a physical therapist–I do house calls for private clients–and I own a restaurant in town called Barbara’s.”
Ken glances up at me, looking more impressed by my resume than he is with the car, and I fight a proud grin from making its way across my lips.
“You doall that?” he gawks, standing again, still staring at me in disbelief. “Wow, that’s… that’s fucking impressive Bailey.”
I blush, unable to hold back the smile anymore, and I offer him a nonchalant shrug. “Thanks. People say I’m a bit of a workaholic, but it does have its perks.”
I gesture to the Pinkmobile. If he’s impressed by this, I’m sure he’d love to see the other cars.The penthouse.
Unfortunately, there’s no way I can take him back to my place right now. Is there?
My stomach swims with uncertainty.
