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“Who’s the firecracker? Bet she’s a handful.” The man at the counter lets out a low whistle. “She a local? Work around here? Single.”
My blood boils as the man begins chuckling. Heat rises in my chest, reaching my ears in seconds flat. I whip around with clenched fists, ready to pounce on the foul-mouthed man. He’s a brow shorter and a few pounds lighter than me, but far from slight.
“She’s my sister.” Blake shoots him a warning glance.
My jaw ticks as I gnash my teeth. I step inside the cramped doorway, sizing the man up. Gray peppers his stubbled jaw. Creases frame his weathered eyes, aged by the sun and years of experience, much like mine. He’s too old, worn, and lacks respect. Nothing about him is worthy of Bea.
“I didn’t mean nothing by it, man. Shootin’ the breeze is all.” The man holds his hands up as I center myself in the doorway, ready to pounce if he utters another word about Bea.
“You’re too old to be dumb enough to look twice at her.” Blake pulls no punches with the man and shoots me a sideways glance as he continues his barbs. “I bet you were making out in the back of that Chevy out there about the time my sister picked out her first training bra.”
Blake nods toward the car parked out front, pulling a piece of the past from his arsenal. It’s an example of why Bea’s too young. I blanch.Too young for men like me.My blood boils. And why the hell did he have to bring up training bras?
“Not that old, but fair point.” He chuckles. A sickening ball of guilt grows in my gut. “Just came in for an estimate. No hard feelings.”
“We’re closed,” I snarl. The man recoils, and his smug smile falters. Bile and ire bubble in my gut as I work my jaw, unfiltered and unflinching. “No hard feelings.”
I step away from the doorway as the man opens his mouth to say something more. I stand my ground at the end of the counter with possessive anger streaking through my veins. He has no business looking at Bea. Even less business asking about her.
The man shakes his head, backing away from the counter to the door. He slips out without another word. I’m grateful things didn’t escalate beyond Blake’s raised voice, but an overwhelming desire to punch something rattles through my bones. Bea’s the one person in this world I’ll defend to the nth degree. She doesn’t realize how vulnerable she is with wolves waiting to devour her.
“God damn animal.” Fire blazes in my blood. I wait, standing watch until the dumb ass pulls out of the parking lot.
“Take it easy, Roman.” Blake furrows his brow as he points a remote at the corner TV, the same as he does every morning before Gearhead’s opens. “He got the hint. No need to run off business.”
I stare into the distance as snowflakes swirl innocently in the chilly winter wind. Blake readies the shop as he does every morning before Gearhead’s opens. The TV in the corner flickers to life with muted talking heads reading the news behind an anchor desk. The camera pans to a green screen with maps, percentages, and highs and lows.
“He asked too many damn questions about Bea.” My jaw stiffens.
Did the man see her shimmy out of her tights? Did it turn him on as much as it did me?God, I hope not.
Bea’s torn tights burn a hole in my pocket. My fingers tighten around them, and I’m disgusted with myself for wanting her as badly as I do.
CHAPTER 2
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