Page 14 of Muzzled

Apparently, eight minutes was the cutoff.

Mike stood at the packed bar counter with her back to the door, the intensity of her red hair making her a beacon. Her painting clothes were gone, replaced by a form-fitting tee perched precariously on her shoulders and cinched at her waist with a thick red belt. Her long legs were bare, smooth thighs on display, making his fingers ache to touch them to see if her skin was as soft as he imagined it was.

But he wasn’t here to think about thighs and hips and how perfectly he would fit between her legs. He had questions and whether she knew it or not, she was the one who had the answers. Firing off a text to her as he claimed a spot at her side, he watched her glance down at her phone and roll her eyes before she looked up at him and smiled.

“Like I wouldn’t notice all four million feet of you blocking the sun,” she scoffed, passing him a bottle of beer. “Want to down these and hit up a lounge a few blocks away? I’m thinking the chances of getting a seat here are zero.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, checking out the youthful crowd. “I feel like a chaperone here, anyway.”

She laughed and grabbed his hand, tugging him across the floor. “I’ll let Logan know we’re taking off.”

He followed tight to her, her small fingers keeping a death grip around his while they wove to the loud group Logan was entertaining. She hushed something into his ear and he frowned, looking at the two of them.

“Not too late, right?” Logan clarified, staring him down in an admirable attempt at intimidation. “Mike, phone stays on.”

Swatting his arm, she led their way out of the bar, depositing their half-full drinks on a table as they passed. “I apologize for him,” she said and laughed, loosening her grip on his hand as they hit the street. “He sometimes forgets his guard dog duties end once we pack up shop.”

“Never apologize for your guard dog.” He grinned in response, unable to fault the kid for ensuring Mike was safe. “It’s not an easy position. Especially in a new city.”

Slowing her pace, she scanned the storefronts. “Yeah, well, Logan forgets I’ve been touring since he was in fourth grade. But I suppose I do find his baby alpha tendencies a little endearing.” She released his hand to peer into the window of a cafe, oblivious to the disappointment that flashed across his face at the loss of her touch. “Lots of seats in there.”

Missing the warmth of her fingers and deciding it would do no harm if he indulged in something as simple and innocent as a little hand-holding, he brought hers back into his and followed her inside.

*

Mike leaned backin the booth, coffee in hand. “People watching? For four days?”

Ryan shrugged and swallowed a bite of burger, drawing her eyes to his Adam’s apple. “You know how it is. New to town, don’t know anyone, sick of staring at the motel room walls. At least being surrounded by thousands of people for hours on end makes me appreciate the silence of my room at the end of the night.”

She nodded in agreement, having been there herself hundreds of times. “Sometimes I think that’s the reason I keep Logan around. He’s even more go-go-go than I am, so I actually crave the quiet moments now.” Picking up a fry, she smiled. “Kidding, of course. That boy does so much for me, I’ve probably tripled my output in the past year.”

He glanced at her, burger still in hand. “So Logan is strictly an employee?”

Lifting a brow, she snagged another fry. “An apprentice. Why do you ask?”

She knew she was fishing, her interest in the hot art buyer ratcheting up the more they talked. At a glance, everything about him screamed “not your type,” from his unwrinkled button-down shirts to his detailed explanations of his accounting work to his thoughtful responses to her questions. Nothing about him appeared impromptu or unprepared. His short, blond hair was precisely cut and styled, his clothing nondescript, his words carefully spoken without gratuitous swearing.

It was refreshing.

Men like him didn’t often take the time to talk with her for longer than it took to put the moves on what they hoped would be a freaky roll in the sheets. She was frequently dismissed as flaky out of the gate thanks to her profession, and she had neither the time nor the patience to try and change anyone’s mind.

But Ryan didn’t treat her like she was some outlandish conquest. He seemed to be genuinely interested in her thoughts about art and mediums, his brows furrowing when she said something he needed to contemplate before he responded. She found herself abandoning her typical canned responses and giving his questions the attention and honesty they deserved, something she struggled to do, even with Logan.

The true tipping point came halfway through dinner when she asked him about his job, and he didn’t dumb his answers down. He talked with her, not at her, and that alone was sexy as all hell.

Of course, the cracks in his meticulously controlled demeanor also appealed to her.

The way he sat with his back to the wall, angled to ensure he had an unencumbered view of the door.

The subtle placing of his steak knife within a finger’s reach.

The awkward tension in his hand when she grabbed it.

And the hesitant movement when he grabbed hers.

She looked at him expectantly as he shifted awkwardly in his seat, his attention on his burger. “I was simply curious about him.” He cleared his throat. “So how long do you expect to be in town?”

“Until the end of August,” she replied, watching him as he seemed to find his center again. “Once the festival season wraps up here, I’ll head south for the winter and join the circuit down there. How about you?”

---