Page 15 of Green Flag
A single whiskey wouldn’t scratch the surface if I were him.
“How much damage are you planning on causing, princess?”
I slid my jacket off my shoulders, hoping his eyes would rake over me again and note my exposed skin. My dress had the tiniest of straps. I bet he could tear them off with his teeth or the flick of his finger.
This man was short-circuiting my brain. I needed the security at the track to think that they had a chance with me, not Luca. But his deep voice and ‘princess’ heated my cheeks and below my navel.
“A lot. Let’s just say his debt is large.”
Luca frowned, the scar on one of his brows illuminated by the low light above our heads. I always loved a bad boy. There was something about his golden appearance and the ruggedness of his past injuries that gave him a dangerous, protective inclination. He looked like the type to fight for you— and win.
“You could say he owes me too,” Luca said, voice grave.
Fuck. That was true. If anyone hated my dad more than me… it would be him. With good reason.
He waved to the bartender. “Another of these, please. Same tab as hers.”
His jaw clenched and his fingers whitened as his grip on the glass strengthened. Maybe he’d understand, maybe he’d help…
But when he saw my smile, he gave me one in return, as if all the anger was easy to strip away. Not like mine.
“Really, I should be getting you drinks,” he said. “It’s quite nice having someone else foot our bill.”
Ourbill? Was that just gentlemanly, or was that… flirting?
“As long as you don’t mind me joining you?”
I waved to the space between us and he moved into it without hesitation.
“Top shelf,” I called to the bartender as he started to make his drink.
We sat in silence as they were made. It was just me and his looming presence.
Men often felt the need to fill the silence. Talking about their hobbies, their sport, their abilities, all in the hopes of impressing and being able to pull down my panties. But not Luca. He sat and swilled his whiskey, comfortable in the quiet.
No doubt he was thinking about tomorrow.
“I know who you are,” I said without thinking.
He sang a line from my song so awfully that my eyes nearly popped out of my head. “And I know who you are.” His smile was full of humble humour as he took his drink from the bartender and thanked him for us. “Everly Bacque, it is an honour.”
“Is my last name why you’d be buying me drinks?”
He blinked into narrowed eyes, assessing me. “I don’t understand.”
I shuffled around in my seat so my knee was against his leg. “Planning to sleep with your boss’s daughter to get back at him?”
Oh, that last drink had taken more of a toll than I’d expected.
His chest rose and fell with a deep inhale, and he downed his drink in one swallow. The bob of his Adam’s apple just did something to me. Something in my nether region. It was about time something instigated some feeling down there, even if it was a thick pillar of a neck. Thick enough for me to wrap my thighs around and ride.
“Is a large tab not enough for you?”
“No,” I said. If only he knew just how far I was planning to go.
He gestured to the barman for another and was silent while it was poured.
“I wouldn’t use you, Everly,” he said. “I have better morals.”
