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Maddie
I can’t believeI just saidYes, Sirlike I’m some sort of cadet at bootcamp. But if this man wants to boss me around and call me Baby Doll again…
No, Maddie, focus!
Stranger Danger.
My eyes glance down at my drink. It’s sitting right in front of me, but I still reach out and pull it closer.
There’s something about this guy that makes me feel oddly safe, but that might just be some sex-starved hormonal bullshit and a girl should always keep a close eye on her drink.
A furrow forms between his brows, as though he’s thinking about the same thing, and he doesn’t like it.
On a super delayed reaction, my eyes widen and I finally stammer. “H-how did you know my name?”
The large man straightens in his chair, like he’s leaning away from my drink, showing me he’s not a threat. And with slow movements he lays his hands, palm down, on the tabletop.
My pulse kicks up at the sight of his hands. They’re so big. His fingers are so thick. And Hades help me, they’re covered in tattoos, too.
His left hand has a grinning skull inked onto the skin. Black flames trailing down from the jaw and covering his fingers. The artwork on his right hand has a similar feel to it, and I assume the same artist did both hands, but that hand features an intricate rose covering the width of it- vines trailing down his fingers and up his forearm.
Every motorcycle club romance book I’ve ever read flashes through my mind, and I briefly imagine him carrying me away to some dungeon where he does dirty, dirty things to me.
One flame-covered finger taps against the wood surface of the table, “Baby, I’m gonna need you to stop whatever thoughts are swirling around in that pretty head of yours.”
Pretty head?
“You think I’m pretty?” The question is out before I can stop it.
Wow, Maddie. Conceited much?
I know alcohol is the cause of my loose thoughts, but in an effort to busy myself before I say anything else stupid, I lift my drink and take a sip.
An occupied mouth can’t get in trouble. Except… my eyes focus on his mouth. The wide slash of his lips…
They tighten as I look at them and I instantly worry that I’m being obnoxious.
Setting my drink down, I urge my body to calm down.
“If you don’t know that you’re pretty, then you’re dating all the wrong guys.” His voice is so deep, I swear I feel the vibrations bounce against my chest.
I force my eyes to meet his. “Thank you.” And because I hate the silence, and because I’m an idiot, I keep talking. “You’re really handsome.” The man’s brows raise, just the smallest amount, like he’s surprised. And it makes me feel brave. “If you don’t know that already, then you’re dating all the wrong women.”
He looks like he wants to smile.
He doesn’t actually smile, but I can pretend.
“Speaking of dating…” He taps his finger against the table once more.
My heart drops at his words. I forgot all about Brian, the man I was supposed to be meeting tonight.
I touch my phone screen and see he’s now several minutes late.
“Brian won’t be meeting you tonight.” The big man’s gruff words sound angry. “He won’t be meeting you any night.”
My hands close around my glass again, needing something to hold on to. “Is that how you know my name? You know Brian? He sent you here to let me down easy?”
I’ve never met Brian, hardly even talked to him, but the sting of his rejection still hits me right in the throat.
