Page 46 of The Pucking Wrong Man

I was making a point to study her every expression.

“Fine,” the asshole huffed, rolling his eyes like he was a petulant teenager rather than the grown man he looked to be. “It’s the pizza place on the same street as the arena. Can’t miss it.”

She was already backing away as he talked, giving him a quick wave before she darted down the sidewalk away from where I was standing. This place was a perfect stakeout place because no one ever seemed to come this way…or notice me lurking.

I glanced at my phone, she only had twenty minutes to get to Charlie’s. She was cutting it close. I headed to my truck to follow after her, but then the asswipes decided to open their mouths.

“Finally got the ice queen to melt, Dallon?” one of the guys asked the tall one who had been talking to Anastasia.

I stopped in my tracks, turning slowly to look back at the group, my fists clenching at my sides.

I’d never cut out a tongue before, but I was tempted at the moment.

Once again, an impulse I’d never had before.

The dead man named Dallon smirked and nodded his head after Anastasia. “A girl like that, she’ll be desperate for it. I’ll pay for dinner. Buy her a few drinks at the game...she’ll probably let me fuck her in the backseat on the way home.” He snorted. “She’s hot enough I might even go back for seconds.”

The other two laughed like Dallon was the most hilarious guy they’d ever met, and I decided that they also looked like dead men.

Rage tore through me, and I might have blacked out for a minute. When I got a hold of myself, I realized I’d stepped out of the alleyway, ready to destroy them for talking about her like that. I held myself back as they walked off, trying to relax before I headed over to the restaurant to see Anastasia. I’d have to think of something between now and tomorrow to make sure that date didn’t happen, but right now, I had to get to my girl.

Anastasia’s eyes widened when she came out, and I was sitting at the table closest to the washroom.

“Oh, hi,” she fumbled out, water from the bin she was carrying spilling over the edges as she came to a screeching halt at the sight of me.

“Hi, little dancer,” I said, leaning back in my booth and raking my eyes over her like a man who’d been dying of thirst and finally found a pool of water. It had been eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds since I’d seen her last.

I was fully aware that my obsession was getting out of hand.

“Stalking me now?” she asked, a small smile on her lips like she wouldn’t really mind if that was the case. I highly doubted that was actually her mindset, so I just smiled in return.

“I’ve become particularly fond of Charlie’s over the past week. I’ve developed a craving for it, you could say,” I responded lightly.

She blushed, biting down on that plump lower lip in a way that made me want to die inside because I couldn’t touch her.

“When’s your break?” I asked, when she hadn’t run away yet like she had last time.

“My break?” she stuttered.

“Yeah, I assume you have one of those?” I raised an eyebrow. “Or do I need to have a talk with your manager?”

Anastasia blinked at me, her eyes dazed and unfocused. “A talk with my manager...” She must have realized that I was not joking because she suddenly straightened. “Oh, yes, I have a break!”

“Not that you should be concerned with that.” she added after a couple of seconds, like she had just reminded herself that she needed to be on guard. Anastasia cocked her hip out and gave me a bratty look that had me wanting to push her to her knees and fuck her mouth to straighten out her newfound attitude.

Again...where the fuck had that instinct come from?

I smirked. Her attitude was cute. I had a feeling that she didn’t show that side of herself very much, and I loved that something about me made her feel comfortable enough to do that.

“Maybe I’m interested in being concerned with that,” I mused, unable to stop myself from gawking at her because she was so fucking beautiful. This was not the way to prove I wasn’t a creeper, but technically I had been creeping after her—so maybe it was a losing effort to begin with.

Anastasia opened her mouth and then closed it, clearly at a loss for words. This was becoming a pattern for us.

“Get back to work before you get into trouble, baby girl. Come sit with me during your break,” I ordered sternly. “Unless you want me to break you out of here, because then I have way cooler places we can hang out.”

Anastasia’s eyes widened, that dreamy look spreading over her features, like me getting stern was an aphrodisiac for her. She liked when I took charge. It turned her on.

I fucking loved that.

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