Page 24 of Wild Side
“Consistently mean.”
I drink and let out an unladylike snort. “You try working in a kitchen with a bunch of dudes your entire life. It’s part of my charm.” I wink at the giant man beside me.
Rhys scoffs as though he finds nothing charming about me at all.
“Not my fault you aren’t man enough to handle me. But look, Scotty is.” Rhys glares, but I ignore his sour expression and let out a whistle. “Hey, Scotty,” I call down the bar.
The younger man spins on the spot to face me, his enthusiasm palpable.
“You’re fired.”
Now we get a full-fledged grin and a salute from him. “Ha! Sure thing, Chef.” Then he turns around and goes back to work.
Rhys’s glare has darkened, and it strangely excites me, so I grin back at him. “See? Scotty can take it. You just need to toughen up a bit.” And maybe it’s the few sips of wine that have gone straight to my head, but I reach out and punch him on the arm. Casually. Right on the tattoos. Like we’re old friends or something.
Except we’re not.
He turns his head to look at me. Slowly, methodically. Then his low, dark voice comes. “We need to talk.”
I nod as I reach for my wine, hoping it might help clear the sudden lump in my throat. From over the rim of my crystal glass, I watch Rhys shoot Scotty a glare.
“But I don’t want to talk with that fucking goof hitting on you the entire night.”
My eyes take a turn around my head. The last thing I want is to talk to a complete stranger about such painful personal things. I’d rather stab a fork into my eye. “What are you?—”
My words drop off as Rhys tosses a one-hundred-dollar American bill down on the bar and stands in one swift motion. I’m still sitting slack-jawed when he reaches for the back of my stool and drags me away from the bar.
“You don’t need to pay for mine.” I don’t want him buying me drinks. But I’m not comping his either.
“Let’s go.” His jaw pops, and he reaches out, not hesitating at all to place his massive hand on the small of my back and guide me away from my seat.
The way he takes control is very caveman-like, and it stirs something inside me. I shouldn’t like this dominant side of him. I definitely shouldn’t let him lead me out of here like we’re anything more than adversaries. And I don’t want to turn into some simpering, starry-eyed girl over him, so I remind myself why he’s so awful as we head to the exit.
He’s rude and thinks the worst of me.
He evicted my sister and left her homeless.
He’s trying to take away my nephew, who I love more than anything in the world.
All the internal shit talk works beautifully. In fact, it makes me feel like I shouldn’t be near him at all. And just like when I shook his hand off earlier, I do so again.
“Where are we going?”
He holds the front glass door open for me, like the gentleman he’s not. “I don’t know. This town is fucking packed with tourists. I can’t get a room anywhere.”
“I wouldn’t go to your room with you anyway, Rhys. You’re trying to fuck meover,not fuck me, remember?” I shoot him my best hateful glare as I attempt to walk past him, but he steps out right in front of me before I can escape the restaurant.
His chin drops, eyes now level with mine. “Is that so?” The barely there smirk on his face does nothing but further infuriate me.
Dick.
“Yes, thatisso.” I enunciate the words so that he hears me loud and clear. I’m ready for a fight. It won’t be my first, and most likely not my last, but it might be one of the most important of my life. And I’m not about to fuck it up all because he might be the most sinful-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
His gaze lands on my lips. I’m trapped there for a beat, trying to decipher his expression. Like a deer in the headlights, I stand and stare, wondering if he’s going to hit me with his car or kiss me.
The thumping in my ears crescendos with each beat that passes, but it’s replaced by flaming cheeks when he claps back with, “I think it might be the opposite.” Then he draws back, taking all the air in my lungs with him as he saunters away.
I watch his hulking form make its way down the sidewalk.
