Page 22 of Raw & Vulnerable

Well. It would be, if she actually dated. She believes in being punctual.

Greasy is less than amused by this turn in events, not liking that Minnie isn’t an easy target anymore.

“Hey man, if that piece is yours, you better keep a damn eye on her,” the vile guy growls, clearly put out that his attempt to gain Minnie’s favor has been thwarted. “She was sitting here all fucking pretty, just waiting on a real man to come show her wut’s wut.”

Gage’s upper lip curls a bit, a sure sign that he’s halfway to losing his temper. “Just fuck off, man. I don’t want to start anythin’ with you. Go back and sit with your nervous lookin’ pals. They know what I’m about.”

Minnie plasters herself to his side like a leech, not liking how Greasy is glancing at her, like he wants to make a grab for her. This is exactly why she doesn’t go out to places like this. Her heart is like the thunder of horse hooves, racing in her ribcage painfully. Greasy glares at her, seeing her arms wrapping around Gage’s waist in her effort to make herself feel safe.

“Look at this uppity bitch,” Greasy sneers. “You’re just a tease, sitting here looking like a-”

Gage stiffens. “Finish that sentence and I’m gonna put your head through the fuckin’ bar.”

“Screw you, man!”

“You think I’m kiddin’? Try me.” All his muscles are tensing, ready for action, so coiled that Minnie can feel them under her hands.

She’s shaking, her jaw clenched so tight that it aches. She doesn’t want to be here anymore, she wants out. She doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt, especially not on her account.

Greasy turns out to be a ballsy dude, because he puts his fists up, if not a little drunkenly, looking like he does, in fact, want to try his luck against a man much bigger than him. Gage makes a noise low in his chest that Minnie can feel under her hand and she looks up at him anxiously, ready to beg him to just get her the heck out of this madhouse, when-

One of Greasy’s friends finally gets a hold of him, pulling him back. “Hey,” the guy says, leaning in to say, “You know who that is, right?”

Greasy goes still, as if suddenly wondering who he just wanted to have fisticuffs with. His friend whispers something unintelligible in his nasty ear, something that causes his eyes to widen a bit. With a petulant scowl, he puts his fists down and walks away with his buddy without another word.

Gage isn’t relaxed, like a snake ready to lash out, so Minnie cranes her head to look upward at him, seeing the hard line of his jaw. He looks so terrifying, murder in his eyes. A sliver a fear towards him builds in her chest, but she pushes it down. He’s never harmed her. With a shaky tone, she says, “I guess I forgot to tell you; I’m a highly contested piece amongst all the townies. Very high demand.”

He looks down at her out of the corner of his eye, taking note of the nervous expression in her dark gaze. His eyes soften slightly, not liking that emotion on her. Gage sighs, tension slowly bleeding out of him. His hand with the skull and snake comes up to rest on the back of her head. His lips brush her forehead softly, as if assuring himself that she’s alright. “Yeah, I can see that. Nothin’ but a trouble magnet, is what you are.”

A trouble magnet. A magnet for trouble, perhaps. Minnie has never thought of herself that way, but in thinking of what happened to her as a girl, it suddenly makes a lot of sense. She just happens to exist and bad men appear, like gosh darn daisies.

“Look at you,” he mutters, pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. Examining her carefully, inspecting for harm. “Pale as a ghost. Are you sure you’re alright? That filth didn’t touch you, did he?” He glances over at Greasy like he’s planning on throwing him through a window no matter what she says.

Minnie strokes his flat stomach with the palm of her hand, trying to soothe him.

“No. Just…I don’t know. These places aren’t really my scene. But, you already knew that.” Her hands are still trembling. He grabs them both in his warm paw, stilling them.

Gage leans down and nuzzles against her, his face in her neck. “Are you sayin’ you wanna get outta here?”

He smells clean, that pleasant aftershave with clove in it, mixed with pine needle. Minnie inhales and tells him that he smells nice, causing him to finally grin with genuine pleasure. He’s clean shaven and Minnie can’t resist reaching a hand up to stroke her fingers over his jawline.

She’d rather skip all this idiocy and just go home with him. That’s his end game anyway, isn’t it? Just to screw the goody-two shoe nervous librarian from the nice side of town?

Her eyes run along his neck, brushing over the menacing tattoo there. He swallows under her careful examination. It shifts.

“Can we just pick up some fast food?” It’s a selfish question. She wants out of this place and fast. She also doesn’t want him at her place, another of her wild anxieties around people in her safe bubble, so that leaves only one option. “And…go to your place?”

He looks at her a little warily, though interest heats in his hazel gaze, towering over her. “I mean, it’s not the fuckin’ ritz. My housemates could be in as well. Not exactly romantic, if you know what I mean.”

Thinking fast, Minnie replies with the partial truth. “My sister, the platinum blonde you saw me with a few nights ago? She’s staying over this week. She’d never let me live it down if we…yeah. The walls aren’t very thick in my place.”

Gage smirks a bit at that, rolling his eyes. “I mean, the walls aren’t much better in the dump I live in. If anyone is home, theyaregoing to listen, I can promise you that. Didn’t think you’d be okay with that.” He pauses, thinking. “We can always do the motel.”

The idea turns her stomach. She knows which motel he means; she’s been there. If there is one thing that stands out about that day thirteen years ago, it’s that she remembers crying in a corner in some crusty, roach infested motel while the criminals surrounding her checked through their money, double checking to make sure no trackers were in the stacks from the banks.

She’d been so sure that day that…her heart twists sickly. She doesn’t want to think of it.

No motel for her, no way. Not on some disgusting love bed or whatever. Not that she knows the state of his place, but she’d barely make it through the door in the motel without her mind shattering and her body devolving into a quivering mess. “Your place is fine.”

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