Page 8 of Loch
“Wait, no. I don’t have the money for that right now.” Her face looked a little panicked.
“Don’t want your money, babe.” I walked over to the bar and sat on a stool at the far end. I could hear her boots clomping against the floor as she stomped over to me.
“Nate, please. I don’t want your hand out. I can take care of myself.” Her tone had a bite to it, and I could tell she was trying to keep it under control. That was the first time she’d called me Nate. I hadn’t heard that name in a long time. Most people now called me Loch. A few special people, like Ethel, called me Nathan. Hearing her call me that caused me to smile. “What?” she asked, looking confused.
“You called me Nate.”
“Yeah, and? That’s short for Nathan. Should I not?” Gone was the confident, tell-you-to-shove-it girl; replaced by the uncertain and eager-to-please one. I wondered if it was just me that made her flip like that. I wanted to tell her I liked hearing it from her lips. I wanted to tell her to say it again. Hell, I wanted her screaming it as I plowed into her over and over.
“If that’s what you want to call me,” I said instead. Because, well, I was an asshole. And I knew it would make her think twice about any warm and fuzzy feelings she may have been having. “And I know you can take care of yourself. Just like I know Ethel can take care of herself. No problem in lettin’ someone help you out every now and then.” With that, she clamped her mouth shut and took a deep breath in through her nose.
“Thank you,” she finally said with a little nod. “When will it be done? How will I get home?” I could see the wheels turning in her head. There was no cab service in this town, not enough of a need for one, and I knew she knew that. I also wouldn’t have doubted that she was thinking she could walk home. While it was probably safe enough, I would never let that happen.
“It should be ready by close,” I said and still saw uncertainty in her eyes. “If it’s not, I’ll take you home.” The words came out of my mouth before I could think about it. Her eyes widened before she ducked her head. I saw the light tint of the blush rising up her cheeks before she tried to hide it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Reagan
I had never been on a motorcycle. The thought both thrilled and terrified me. I wasn’t actually scared to be on the back of a bike. I was scared of being on the back ofhisbike; my body tucked tightly against his, arms wrapped around his waist. But the horrified look that came over his face after he mentioned it, told me he was less than thrilled about it.
I shrugged, trying not to think about it too much, and went back to wiping down the tables. They weren’t all that dirty. I was just trying to keep busy. That and put some distance between myself and Nate. Still, I could feel his eyes on me as I worked. And I had no idea why it made me feel so uneasy.
The bar was dead and I had no idea why he even wanted me there. Hours passed, boring and long. I didn’t even have him to talk to, seeing as not long after I walked away from him, he locked himself in his office. I toyed with the idea of knocking but thought better of it. A shut door usually meant ‘don’t bother me’ and I definitely wasn’t about to poke the bear. With nothing else to do, I played some games on the new phone I had gotten yesterday to pass the time.
Finally, a little after nine, I heard the familiar rumbling of motorcycles. A lot of them, too. I hopped off my stool a little too eagerly. My right leg had gone to sleep and I felt myself going down. Just as my knees were about to buckle, strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind me. I yelped at the surprise contact and stumbled back into a hard chest. Those arms tightened around me and my body closed the two-inch gap between us. I cocked my head to the side and saw Nate smirking down at me with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, embarrassed. Shaking my leg out, I tested my weight on it. Pins and needles, but I could stand.
“You good?” he asked, sliding his hands back to grab my hips. Heat flooded through me and I felt it all the way through to my core.
“Yep,” I said, trying not to hobble as I walked away. Pretty sure I failed at that. Before it could get any more awkward, the front door pulled open and about ten or so bikers piled inside.
I made my way behind the bar and noticed Bocca flashing me a giant smile and a nod as he walked in. I felt my lips turn upward in return. The guys all scattered. Some went to the pool table, a few piled around a table in the middle of the room, and a couple took a seat at the bar. Two of them headed over to Nate and started a conversation. As I doled out the beer bottles, I kept an eye on Nate. He didn’t look happy at whatever they were telling him. I had a feeling it may have had to do with my car. His eyes cut over to me without warning. I’d been caught staring. I jerked my head in the other direction, searching for something to make me look busy.
“Hey, beautiful,” Bocca greeted me, his elbows propped on the bar. I couldn’t help but notice how his arms bulged, his biceps threatening to tear through the seams on his sleeves. I smiled and set a bottle in front of him.
“Hey yourself,” I returned and he laughed. He looked around then pulled out a stool and took a seat. I was glad to have someone friendly to talk to. Okay, really, I was just glad to haveanyoneto talk to.
“So, how ya likin’ it?” He took a long pull of his beer, still eyeing me.
“I can’t complain. A little on the boring side, but now you’re here, so it’s not too bad.” I was flirting. I knew it, but I just couldn’t help it. Seemed Bocca didn’t mind either.
“Awww, doll,” he said dramatically placing his hand over his heart and flashing a wide, full teeth smile. A smile that I was sure made all the ladies’ panties melt. Mine may have been threatening to. I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him, trying my best to hide my reaction. I scanned the bar to make sure everyone was satisfied and didn’t need anything at the moment. Yep, no one was even close to having an empty beer. I leaned forward resting my forearms on the bar, so that I could talk to Bocca without feeling like I had to yell. Bocca mirrored my movements. Our heads were inches apart. A few errant strands of hair hung in his face and I had a small urge to reach out to tuck it behind his ear. His eyes held mine. But I got the feeling he was trying really hard not to look down my shirt. Which I realized was loose and hanging open, giving the entire bar a straight shot to my bra and boobs.
“I’m tryin’ real hard here, doll,” he said after a few seconds of us being in an eye deadlock. I laughed. His honesty was endearing. I half-expected him to unapologetically gawk. The fact that he didn’t was a little refreshing.
“You are holding out longer than I thought you would,” I said pushing my chest forward a little. He gave me a warning look with his eyes. “Go ahead, take five seconds. Won’t hurt anyone.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. VP says you’re off limits. No matter how beautiful you are, gotta follow that.” He took a sip of his beer. I rolled my eyes again trying to keep my blush at bay. He did call me beautiful and it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“I’m a grown ass woman, ya know? No one can say I’m off limits unless it’s me,” I practically seethed. It wasn’t that I was trying to start something with Bocca in any way. But I’d be damned if I should have that option taken away from me. Bocca chuckled into his bottle before he took another sip. “I just don’t get why he would say that. Unless it’s because I’m Ethel’s granddaughter. But, I’m sure you know her, she’s an advocate for a healthy sex life. So it makes no sense.” I resisted the urge to throw my hands up in frustration.
“Oh, you’re a spitfire. This is going to be fun.” He smirked, like there was something I was missing, and set down his bottle. Then there it was, his eyes flicked down to my chest. Victory. I laughed as his eyes shot back up to mine. This time the look in them was a little dark and hooded, but he quickly brushed it away and gave me a lopsided smile.
“So, how come they call you Bocca?” I asked, figuring I had pushed the limits enough for the moment.
“Apparently I never shut up. Bocca is mouth in Italian, and I guess some say I like to run it.” He shrugged.
