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“Yeah,” I can hear the tenseness in my voice as I reply. “What can I help you with?”
“I want to offer you a job.”
For a moment I’m stunned into silence. “What?” I stammer.
“Why don’t we meet up and we can discuss it? This would really be easier face-to-face,” he says, something close to nervousness coating his words. “Unless you don’t want to.”
I spent two hours in this man’s company last night and from the little I learned from our generic conversation, this is nothing like him. He sounds almost vulnerable.
“Sure. Where and when?” I reply without thinking on it any longer. Besides, I can’t live in the clubhouse and manage the bar forever.
“Twenty minutes. At the coffee shop on Main Street.”
“Great. I’ll see you there.” I pocket my cell after ending the call.
When I turn around to head upstairs, I run into a wall of solid muscle. His scent hits me first—woodsy, and clean. I inhale deeply before stepping back to look up at him.
“Irene,” he rumbles low in his chest, his hands rubbing up and down my arms. “Where you off to?”
It takes me a moment to realize that he heard my end of the conversation. We aren’t a couple, hell, I’m probably not even the only woman warming his bed, and I see no reason to lie.
“Meeting Preacher for coffee.” I smile before moving away from him.
“Preacher?” he asks, his voice dropping even lower.
“Yeah, he called. It’s quiet here and Justice should be back any minute, so I see no reason why not.”
“You don’t know him,” Beast says as he follows me upstairs.
“That’s why we’re having coffee.” I laugh as I enter the room I’ve been using for almost a month. “It’s how normal people make new friends.”
“So, you want to be friends with Preacher?” he asks, brow raised and his voice dripping with skepticism.
“Yes, Beast.” I sigh as I change out of my t-shirt into a flowy green top. I’m not going out of my way to look pretty for Preacher, but I’m not going out for coffee with him dressed in a shirt that has the sleeves torn off. Besides, this sounds like it may be a job interview.
Beast molds his hands to my hips and tugs me into his muscular form. Goose bumps rise over my arms at the feeling of his hands on me again and I draw in a ragged breath to center myself. I can’t get caught up in this man. The sex may have been the best of my life, but I’m not looking to get my heart involved in whatever is going on here.
“You shouldn’t get involved with someone like Preacher. Not even as friends.”
“And you need to mind your own business,” I say. I move out of his grasp again trying to put as much space as possible between us. “Who I am or am not friends with is not your problem.”
“Irene,” Beast starts.
“No.” I hold out a hand. “We slept together, and it was great, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me how to live my life.”
He studies me for long moments before nodding. “You’re right. It’s not my place to tell you what to do with your life. You’re not my woman.”
Turning on his heel he leaves my room, closing the door softly. I was expecting my words to piss him off, get him to show his temper. Instead, I’m left standing here with a strange hollowness in the center of my chest. He is right. I’m not his woman, but I can’t help wondering what it would be like.
Chapter Seventeen
To Push Or Not To Push
Beast
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to slam the damn door when I walk away from Irene. I want to rage at her that she has no business meeting with someone like Preacher. He doesn’t have any friends, so why the fuck would he suddenly be interested in making friends with Irene?
No. He isn’t. He wants more from her and she’s too fucking blind to see it.
