Page 8 of Wicked Ends
“My mistake. I thought you wouldn’t want to be hit on. I can ask Ray back if you want.”
“No!” I said so quickly Marcus chuckled.
“No, thank you, I’m good,” I added smoothly and tucked my hair behind my ear.
“Don’t worry about Ray. A woman like you walks into a bar like this, he can’t help himself. He’s got to shoot his shot. Get used to being firm when you let ‘em down,” Marcus said conversationally. “Unless you want to go home with a bunch of biker boyfriends.”
“Right, I think I’m pretty safe.” I waved a hand around behind me. “Have you seen some of the girls in here tonight? Besides, I haven’t had a boyfriend or been on a date in years, man…” I realized it was true. I gazed at a random spot over the bar and mentally ran through my sparse dating history. Yep. My love life had died when I’d finished my studies, since I was no longer out of the house for long stretches of the day, able to see people and do things.
“Wow, I didn’t realize it had been that long,” I mused and stared back at Marcus.
He was eyeing me with an inscrutable expression.
Great overshare, well-done, Arianna.
What the hell was wrong with me? Was I determined to make a fool of myself in front of this hot stranger? There had to be a reason why pouring your heart out to a barman was a cliché. There was something so natural and easy about talking to Marcus, and I’d been lonely for so long, without even a friend to call.
“I just mean—I’m pretty safe from male attention in a place like this,” I clarified and only made myself sound more pathetic.
Damn it.
I took a long slug of my drink, letting it soothe the embarrassment. I was twenty-five, as of today, for God’s sake; I really shouldn’t be blushing like a schoolgirl.
Marcus shrugged, crossing his arms over his impressive chest.
“You really don’t see yourself well, do you?” His gaze strayed over me, dragging up from my waist and back to my face.
I blushed, this time not from embarrassment. Heat flooded me.
“Every single guy in here watched you leave the back room with me, wondering…”
“Wondering what?” I asked, my cheeks heating more at the glint in his eyes.
“Wondering if we already fucked back there, and if so, if it’s too late to hit on you.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “That’s insane.” I coughed to clear my throat.
“Is it?” Marcus said. “Regardless, that’s what they’re trying to guess, and they’re watching you right now.”
“Well, that’s kind of creepy,” I quipped softly in my hope to steer the conversation back to safer territory.
He smirked.
“You know what they say, one man’s devotion is another woman’s restraining order.”
“Who the hell says that?”
Marcus shrugged again and held my gaze. “I do.” His tone was teasing, but there was something in it that sounded honest.
Beside me, a waitress appeared, sliding a plate in front of me.
I blinked away from Marcus to see what she’d brought me. A slice of apple pie.
Marcus nodded to the waitress and stepped forward. He fished around behind the bar and produced a candle. He stuck it into the flaky pastry and pulled a lighter from the back pocket of his jeans. He looked deep into my eyes and flicked it.
“Happy birthday, beautiful,” he intoned and lit the single candle.
I stared at it. It was the first birthday candle I’d seen burning for me in at least five years.
