Page 54 of Scarred Souls

Was that what Homer was thinking about? I’d bet he had a boner hidden under that napkin. The asshole must’ve felt my homicidal energy, because he finally pulled his eyes from Hope’s ass to meet my stare. He froze with a beer bottle halfway to his mouth. The chickenshit looked away before doing a double take to check that I was indeed imagining how satisfying it would be to dismember him with my bare hands.

Yes, you, motherfucker. You don’t get to look at her like that.

Very calmly I leaned toward him and said, “If you want to keep those filthy fucking eyeballs inside your skull, don’t ever let them land on her again. Are we clear?”

The beer bottle trembled in Homer’s hand. When he laid it on the table, it clattered and almost toppled over.

To emphasize my message, I pulled my lucky knife from the holster at my hip and used the tip of the blade to clean beneath my fingernails while facing Homer.

Without touching his food, he rose from his seat and tossed a pathetic tip onto the table. I growled, and he quickly added more coins before walking out of the restaurant without looking back.

A moment later, I sensed movement beside me. Hope.

She folded her arms, which only accentuated her perfect tits. “What are you doing?”

I plastered on a fake smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re scaring away the customers with your knife play.”

I slotted the blade back into the holster and shrugged. “Oops.”

Hope’s friend wore a sour expression as she watched us from behind the bar while sipping a drink through a straw. At least she’d stopped flicking her hair and eye fucking me since I’d told her I wasn’t remotely interested in anything she had to offer.

Hope splayed her fingertips on the table and stared me down. “If there are no customers, I have no job. Do you see the problem here?”

“Nope. No job means fewer places I have to protect you, and less risk. You could’ve avoided all this if you’d flown to Montana with me.”

She grumbled in that cute way of hers before leaning in and speaking quietly. “If you think just because you jizzed on my back like some territorial baboon that you can start messing with my life, you’re wrong.”

“Hmm.” I let out a contented sigh and rested my forearms on the table, getting close enough to inhale the rich scent of her hair. “Still thinking about our little rendezvous, are you?”

She pulled back quickly to glare at me. “You’re such a dick.”

“Am I?” I arched one brow. “How are your tips today, Gatita?”

“What?” She frowned.

“How. Are. Your. Tips?”

She placed her hand over the healthy bulge of cash tucked away in her apron. “That’s your doing?”

Why did she look upset? She’d probably made a week’s worth of tips in one shift.

“Christ. You’re unbelievable.”

I sipped my beer. “No need to thank me. We’ll call it even.”

“Even for what?” Hope’s brow lowered while she pondered what I meant. Finally, it dawned on her. “Even for what I let you do in the casita?” Her face twisted in revulsion, which was exactly how I wanted her to react.

I winked and grinned, leaving her to choke on whatever insult she’d been about to fling my way.

I had two reasons for being a creep. One. Self-preservation. If she thought I was a monster, there was less chance she’d ask invasive, personal questions about my scars. Being around her twenty-four seven meant it was bound to come up if she felt like we were on friendly terms. But if she hated me, she wouldn’t get all Boo-hoo, poor Decker, someone carved him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

The other reason? So she’d never let me near her again. Something about this woman made me throw my brain straight out the fucking window. One minute, I was in control, and the next, I was ready to pin her to the wall and do obscene things to her body. Someone had to start making sensible decisions, and given how things were going so far, it was unlikely to be me.

A group of four guys rolled into the restaurant. The prettiest of the lot smiled and waved to Hope. He was around her age, taller and broader shouldered than his friends.

Hope quickly recovered from our conversation to return the gesture to Pretty Boy.

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