Page 6 of Scarred Souls

My gaze raked over his menacing tattoos. There were creepy skeleton bones along the backs of his hands, and up his neck were grotesque horned creatures covered in reptilian scales. The flames surrounding them made it a scene straight from hell. And judging by the way that Henley clung to his broad frame, the man was sculpted of pure muscle.

A small tremor shot through my body, and it wasn’t born of fear. I refused to admit what else might’ve caused it.

I really needed to make him leave.

Grim continued to ignore me, so I cleared my throat.

His phone clattered when he tossed it onto the table. Slowly, he scanned me from my tennis shoes to my denim skirt and black tank until his emotionless gaze met mine. His eyes weren’t Satan-spawn black like I’d thought when he’d first walked through the door; rather, they were a deep brown, like strong espresso.

It took all my courage not to balk under his open scrutiny. I wasn’t ashamed of my body. I’d been too thin when I’d arrived in Playa de la Palmera, but in the three years since, I’d put on weight and was comfortable in my curves. But when Grim’s stare lingered once again on my scars, I felt as mortified as if I were standing before him naked.

“Disculpe,” I said. “La cocina está cerrada.” I’m sorry. The kitchen’s closed.

He gave me a look that was a combination of boredom and annoyance. “Did I ask for food?”

Okay. Rude.

His Spanish made me wonder where he was from. It sounded foreign, but I couldn’t identify its origin.

Also, how was it possible that this douche canoe came equipped with such a delicious deep voice? If only Grim’s words weren’t ones I wanted to shove back down his throat.

My mouth opened and closed while I decided how to respond. I’d dealt with asshole customers before, but there was something about this guy’s unnecessary attitude that made my inner bitch climb to the surface.

I shifted on my feet. “Look, I’m trying to close up, so if you can just?—”

“I’ve had a really long day.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m tired, and I’m thirsty. So I’d appreciate it if you could sway your sweet ass back to the bar and bring me the biggest, coldest beer you’ve got. If you can organize that without any more attitude, I’ll leave you a nice fat tip on my way out. Okay?”

No.

Not okay, buddy.

If he was having a crappy day, he didn’t have the right to take it out on me.

But he did say I had a sweet ass.

Unhelpful thought, Hope.

I wrestled with the decision to either give him a piece of my mind about the way he treated people or get him his damn beer so he could hurry up and leave. Something told me Grim would enjoy getting a rise out of me, so I opted for diplomacy.

Still feeling the need to grit my teeth, I asked, “Just one beer?”

He gave me a fake smile that would probably make him ruggedly handsome if he weren’t such an impolite ass. “One beer and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Fine,” I snapped, and spun on my heel to stomp back to the bar.

I swore I felt his eyes on my ass the whole way. I grabbed the closest bottle of beer from the refrigerator, popped the cap, and marched back to Grim. Bubbles fizzed up the bottle’s neck when I slammed it onto the table.

He arched one dark brow. “No complimentary chips?”

I shook my head. “Not for you.”

We gave out free chips when Javi’s was filled with tourists because it landed us better tips. But it wasn’t a custom any other time of year, and certainly not for this jerk.

Something subtle flickered across his features. It happened so fast I couldn’t be sure what to make of it, but it was almost as though I’d surprised him somehow and he’d tried to conceal it.

Whatever.

I turned to leave again, but he said, “Wait.” His head tilted. “Where are you from?”

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