Page 4 of Driving Whiskey Wild
“You should work in the daytime.” His deep voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she must have been quiet too long for his liking, because he said, “You shouldn’t be here at night.”
The comment tweaked her nerves, and she found her voice. “I’m fully capable of deciding where and when I should go places.”
He chuckled, which infuriated her, turning her jitters into irritation.
She slipped her purse from her shoulder and slammed it on the counter, hard. “Are you pushing my buttons on purpose, or are you really a jerk?”
She felt him watching her as she rooted around in her purse for her measuring tape and notebook, trying not to let him see how nervous he made her.
“I definitely enjoy pushing your buttons, and I’m pretty much an asshole. So, I’d say both.”
Her hands stilled, and she glared at him. He shrugged with a half-cocked smile, which she found strangely endearing.
“At least you’re honest,” she said, and began measuring the countertops. “Why do you care when I work?”
“Why do you care about the length of our countertops?” He crossed his thick arms, watching her with a stern expression.
“Because you need enough space to prepare food. We need a deep fryer, and if we replace the oven and the refrigerator with slightly larger appliances, we need to make sure you’ll still have enough room to work.”
He motioned toward the table in the back of the room. “We can make sandwiches there.”
“Yes,” she said as she wrote down the dimensions. “But that’s not efficient.”
“Why? Your legs broken?” He lifted his brows, and his eyes went hot again. “Because they’re looking mighty fine and functional to me.”
Her cheeks flamed. Instead of responding, she turned her back to him and began measuring another counter, telling herself to calm the heck down. She felt him move behind her, as stealthily as a ninja. His proximity made her acutely aware of the heat filling the miniscule space between her back and his front. Her pulse raced as she finished measuring and scribbled the dimensions down in the notepad while he watched over her shoulder.
“That’s wrong.” He reached around her and picked up the measuring tape.
He stretched the tape out between his big hands, measuring the countertop while still standing behind her. The farther his arms reached, the more his body pressed against hers. Her girly parts tingled and clenched like they’d been starved for a man’s touch. Okay, maybe they were. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything but the hardness of his thick thighs against her ass, the feel of his belt buckle pressing into her back—
“See? You missed an inch.” He showed her the measuring tape.
It was all she could do to blink up at him, over her shoulder.
“Every inch counts,” he said as he set down the measuring tape. “I thought all sweethearts knew that.”
Nervous laughter bubbled out before she could stop it. “Sweethearts? Really?”
“What? Women are sweet.” He ran the back of his knuckles lightly up her arm, then wrapped his long, strong fingers gently around her upper arm and slid them down to her elbow, leaving flames in their wake.
Her entire body shuddered with his strong touch.
“And you’re extra sweet, like a sugar rush.”
She bit her lower lip, caught between being turned on by his touch and amused at his lines. Then he leaned in closer. His hot breath slid over her ear, and his beard scratched her cheek, tipping her toward the turned-on side. The man was a walking roller coaster.
“Don’t fight it, Finlay. You know you want to take me for a ride,” he whispered, deep and raspy.
“Take you for a ride?” She giggled and peeled his hand from her arm, turning in the sliver of space between them. He pressed his hips against her, and while she tried not to react to the size of his package, she knew by the look in his eyes she’d failed—epically.
“A long, hard ri—”
She reached up and put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t even say it. I’m not sure what type of girls you’re used to, but all this”—she waved toward his body—“is not working for me.”
He glanced down at her pert nipples, which pressed against the thin material of her dress, and a cocky smile lifted his lips. “Your body says otherwise.”
“Ugh. You are so arrogant!” She pushed out from between him and the counter, and cooler air swept over her, making her nipples pebble even tighter. “It’s the air in here.”
“Uh-huh.” He stepped toward her, pinning her in place with his piercing gaze.
What was it about him that was drawing her in even as warning bells went off in her head? She needed a distraction, enough space to regain control. She snagged the measuring tape from the counter to give her hands something to do and began measuring the refrigerator. Her darn hands were trembling.
He moved behind her again. “Why do you want to replace the appliances? This refrigerator works just fine.”
“There’s not enough space in it, and it’s old as dirt. You want your appliances to function properly so your ingredients don’t go bad.” She moved to the counter again and jotted down the dimensions.
“It’s fine,” he said sharply.
“Are you always like this? Hitting on women one minute and arguing with everything they say the next? Don’t you have to mind the bar?” She measured the stove, then quickly shoved her notebook in her bag, needing an escape.
“Jed’s got it covered.” He put his hand on her bag. “In a hurry?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m meeting friends and I don’t want to be late.”
His fingers fisted in her bag, and his brows furrowed again. He tucked her bag against his side like a football and headed for the door.
“Hey!” She hurried after him. “That’s my bag.”
He pushed open the door and held it for her. “I’m carrying it to your car.”
Confused, she passed by him and walked into the bar. His arm swept possessively around her, and suddenly all eyes turned toward her again. Only this time, there were no heated glances or haughty whistles. Both were replaced with respectful nods directed at Bullet. Anger simmered inside her.
She hurried out the front door and twisted from his grip. “What the heck was that all about?” She ripped her purse from his hands, unable to stop her voice from rising. “I am not your property, and that was…Oh my gosh, Bullet. I don’t even know how to classify what you just did. It was the equivalent of dragging me by my hair into your cave.”
“You work there now,” he said evenly.
“What the heck is that supposed to mean? Just because I work for your family doesn’t mean you own me.”
He stepped closer, and she held up her palm. “Stop. Why do you always do that?”
“What?”
“Encroach on my personal space. Stay there. Say what you have to say, and it darn well better include an apology, because I don’t need this job enough to deal with this every time I’m here.”
FINLAY GLARED AT Bullet as if she could visually cut him to shreds. “I am not some biker guy’s old lady! I am a professional woman, and if you refuse to treat me like one, then I’m gone, Bullet. And you can explain to your family why I left.”
“What the fuck are you so pissed off about?”
“You! You think you can just push your way between my legs? Maybe other girls like all that bad-boy mojo you have going on, and I’ll admit, there’s something hot about it, but all that heat tends to fizzle when you treat a girl like property.”
There’s something hot about it glowed in his mind like a beacon. “I was putting a stop to the bullshit leers you were getting. Would you prefer I let you throw yourself to the wolves and allow those guys to eye-fuck you like that’s all you’re worth?”
For the second time in twenty-four hours, her jaw hung open, and she snapped it shut. She stepped closer, a hair more than five feet of confident bravado, all wrapped up in a frilly dress with a sweet little ribbon tied around her waist. He’d never met anyone like this feminine, smart little waif, and even though he knew he should probably take the golden ticket she was offering and let her walk away, he couldn’t do it.
“Isn’t that exactly what you have been doing to me?” she said in a calmer, accusatory voice. “Leering and making lewd comments? Trying to get me to ride the Bullet train?”
Aw, fuck. She had a point. “Yeah, but that’s just because I’m into you. It’s different.”
She wrinkled her nose, as if she couldn’t believe he’d said that, so he tried to explain.
“You may not be ready to ride yet—”
“Oh my gosh,” she said under her breath.
“But one day you will be, and I’m not going to let those horny bastards look at you like you’re a piece of meat.”
“But it’s okay for you to do it?” Her eyes bloomed wide.
He nodded, then quickly realized what she’d said. “No. Wait. That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Yes, it most definitely is.” She reached into her purse as she spoke. “Look, Bullet. I don’t know what your deal is, but I like your family, and I want to help make this place better. I’m sure I’m not the type of person you’re used to, but I know my way around the kitchen, and I could do this job in my sleep.” She pulled out her keys and said, “Obviously I have to pull up my bootstraps and be more confident around your customers, but now that I know that, I’ll do it. What I won’t put up with is having to fend off your advances every time I come in. So let’s lay it all on the line, right here, right now.”
