Page 16 of Beneath Your Beautiful
I couldn’t imagine anyone messing with Killian. Except, maybe, the man I served earlier. “I think I served his dad earlier. I mean…I just got the feeling…”
“Big man? Looks like a bull?”
“That sounds about right.”
Her face darkened. “I hate that man. I don’t know why Killian even talks to him.”
I would have loved to have known more, but she was done talking about it. We finished eating our tacos, and I wiped my hands and mouth with the paper napkins. “I need to get back,” I said, gathering up our cardboard containers.
“Yeah. I’m out of here.”
As I dumped our trash in the garbage can by the truck, I told Jimmy it was the best taco I’d ever eaten. He gave me a thumbs up. “I’d never lead you astray.”
When I returned to the bar, Killian’s dad was gone, and he didn’t mention it. The rest of the night went smoothly, and we had a steady but manageable crowd.
Now I was sitting alone on a barstool waiting for Killian, who had offered me a ride home. He hadn’t just offered, he’d insisted on it.“I’m driving you home. Wait for me.”
“I can catch a taxi.”
“I’m driving you home. Take a seat.”
“You can’t just issue orders and expect me to follow them.”
I wasn’t sure why I’d fought him on it. Maybe it was the way he’d said it—in a brusque tone that implied it was his obligation, rather than his pleasure, to drive me home.
“Door’s locked. I have the keys. Sit and wait for me.”
He hadn’t been kidding—he was no Prince Charming. But I didn’t trust Prince Charming anymore, so I sat and I waited. It was quiet now, except for the hum of the refrigerators, but my ears were still ringing from the music earlier, and my body was buzzing with energy. I checked my phone as a text came through from Killian and smiled when I saw it was my schedule.
“Let’s go,” Killian said, striding past me.
I shouldered my bag and followed him outside. “You don’t need to drive me home every night I work,” I said as he pulled down the metal gate over the building. It wasn’t like I didn’t want him to drive me home. I just didn’t want him to feel obligated.
“Are you going to fight me on everything?” he asked, sounding exasperated.
“No. Only if you’re being unreasonable or acting like a bully,” I said as we walked up South Fourth Street.
“I’m not a bully.” A beat later, he asked, “You think I’m a bully?”
After working with him all night, I got the feeling asking someone’s opinion was rare. “I don’t know. You tell me. Are you a bully?”
“You’re my employee. It’s my job to protect you and make sure you get home safely.”
Wow. My dad would be thrilled I was working for a badass who considered it his duty to protect me. “Williamsburg seems pretty safe to me.”
“Are you from Brooklyn?” Killian asked.
“No.”
“Did you grow up in a city?”
“No.”
He raised his brows like he’d scored a victory.
“Have you ever been to a frat party?” I asked.
Killian beeped the locks of a black Jeep Wrangler and opened the passenger door for me.
