Page 4 of Overstaying His Welcome

He was trouble.

“I’m Tank,” he said. “You are?”

“Chance.”

His grin widened. “What are the chances, huh, Chance?”

I rolled my eyes. It was a joke I’d heard in some variation or another over the years. My parents had been foolish enough to name me something that wound up being tossed around in metaphors and headlines like crazy.

Hell, it could have been intentional on their part. Name the baby in a way that keeps his name in their daily repertoire. Yeah, that’s definitely a Sheppard family idea.

“They’re very slim, actually,” I told him with finality. “I’ve never been here before and likely won’t again.”

Tank hummed. “A one and done kind of guy. I’m a fan of that idea.”

The way he drawled out each word sent a chill down my spine. We both knew he wasn’t talking about how I frequented bars.

“What about you? Is this your favorite local hideout?”

I don’t know where the question came from. It wasn’t as if I intended to come back. Especially not to find him or anything. Because that would be foolish. So far beyond foolish it would turn reckless if actually carried out.

He shrugged, then leaned closer. “Why you asking, handsome? Want to see me again already? What about that one and done rule?”

“You have a lot of questions.”

“It’s a work hazard.”

I froze, my mind immediately thinking he was a journalist of some kind. Figures the first man I’ve allowed myself to halfway flirt with in nearly four years was only looking for a story.

“I’m a private detective,” he added when I didn’t question further.

My shoulders dropped slightly, though not all the way. If he was a detective of some kind, especially a private one, then he might still be after a story about me. I couldn’t let my guard down.

That last thought pissed me off enough to have me straightening on my stool and facing him all the way. “Who sent you?”

At my demand, his brows shot up. “Sent me?”

“Yeah. Was it someone running against my father? Or do you liaison with news teams too? Maybe it’s for a person I don’t even fucking know who wants a story to sell.”

His face transformed from confused to worried in a heartbeat. With slow movements, he raised his hands and lifted his shirt. Then he emptied his pockets onto the counter.

“Listen, handsome, I don’t know who you are. Yeah, I work in the private sector, but mostly to catch cheating spouses and do insurance claims. Occasionally, I do a bit of muscle for hire work, which is honestly my favorite bit. I’m not whoever you think I am.”

I sighed, then scrubbed my face. “Sorry. It’s a hazard of the family name.”

He started to put his stuff away, nodding along as if it made sense. Once he had it all tucked away, he stepped even closer. The move made us touch in a way that could only be seen as intimate. Anyone else in the bar would see us and know there was more here. Know that a single shift could have us pawing at each other, desperate for a second of privacy.

I felt the heat of the idea sweep through me. Fuck! It had been too long since I’d had someone on their knees for me.

Would this big, strong man drop down to the floor to suck my cock if I asked? Or would he demand I do the same?

His fingers running down the front of my buttoned-up shirt drew my attention back to him. I pushed away the fantasy to soak up whatever reality he was giving me.

“I have no clue who your family is. None of that matters to me. All I care about is how hard you like to fuck. I’m verse, so I can top or bottom. And I have a place nearby we can use. I’ll sign any NDA you need me to. You won’t hear a peep out of me about this ever again after tonight.”

Fire roared in my veins at the offer.

He understood.

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