Page 64 of Throttle

“But I used you. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”

“If a sexy woman wants to take advantage of me by straddling my lap, then by all means, use away.”

As the server sets down our orders, we exchange smiles and thank her. Brass giving her an extra wink.

When it’s just us again, his expression switches to serious. “I know this is none of my business, but… your man thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

I study my napkin as if it will hold answers.

“That’s not me saying I agree with him. I think he’s being a dumbass and you should kick him to the curb.” He rests his tatted hand on top of mine, engulfing it. “But if you love the pretty boy, give him time. His stubborn ass will realize that by him trying to protect you from himself, he is hurting you.”

That may be. It's foolish of me to just sit here and wait for him.

“I didn’t know you were so logical in the L.O.V.E. department.” I slip my hand away, taking a sip of my creamy goodness, smiling from the top of the rim.

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

I break off a piece of cookie, handing it to him and he tosses it in his mouth. “Why is that?”

Brass becomes still, his demeanor shifting. No longer grinning, he now wears a harsh frown that suggests it's all he has experienced in his past. But he seems like a good guy behind all that hardness and maybe one day we can be friends.

Two men enter as the bell on the door jingles. Without one of their brief glimpses, I would have disregarded it. But I had a strange feeling it was more than just a passing glance. It's not my intention to judge, but from their appearance, I’d guess they haven't been to a hippie café before. They are both dressed in black hoodies, black jeans, and wearing stocking caps. A little odd. Unless they're a couple who enjoy coordinating their outfits. Which I’m doubting.

“You good?” Brass follows my gaze.

“Yeah. It’s nothing.” I shake off any bad vibe. “I appreciate you having teatime with me. It was nice.”

“Anytime. You’re a cool chick, Tequila. I know your boy will come to his senses.”

“Well, maybe I won’t be waiting for him anymore.” Saying it out loud crushes me, and the dull ache in my chest returns.

Baby steps.

“That a girl. Show him you ain’t interested in his stubborn ass.” Brass takes another look at the random guys who are now sitting on the window stools. “Why don’t we get out of here, huh?” He slaps some cash on the table.

With a nod, I slide out of the booth, feeling Brass's hand on my lower back. Something tells me he thought those men being here were odd too but said nothing.

While passing by, one of them makes eye contact and grins at me.

Creepy.

Brass pulls me toward him, never skipping a beat, and refuses to release me until I'm secure in my car. It's likely insignificant. Though, with the club, you can never be too sure, and I have a newfound appreciation for my bodyguard.

Once we reach my building and start climbing the stairs, Brass keeps a vigilant eye in all directions. “Tequila. What the—”

“Yeah, I know it’s not the Beverly Hills Hotel. Let’s not talk about it right now, okay?”

He wants to press further but decides against it. “Fair enough.”

We make it to the hall that leads to my apartment, and Frank, unsteady on his feet, stumbles toward me. With a quick tug, Brass pulls me behind him, sobering Frank with fear in his eyes. Honestly, I understand. He can be well… intimidating.

I place a hand on one of Brass’s biceps before this big, scary biker attacks the poor man. “It’s okay. It’s only Frank. He’s harmless.”

“Yes. Listen to her. I’m old and helpless.” He grins widely. “Was just going to ask if you friendly folks can spare some change.”

Brass surprises me by pulling out a fifty from his wallet, but I figured he was a gentle giant.

“Oh, wow. You’re a kind soul. Bless you, boy.” Frank wobbles downstairs, leaving only me and Brass standing in front of my chipped door.

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