Page 27 of With You

He’d changed into jeans and a plain black t-shirt, his feet in a well-worn pair of black boots. His hair was wet like he’d taken a quick shower. Jesus, he looked good, his colorful tattoos a stark contrast to the black in his shirt. Roe was sixteen-year-old Sam’s wet dream. Hell, he was thirty-year-old Sam’s wet dream.

The cocky smirk lifting his cheeks said that my checking him out hadn’t gone unnoticed. He ran a hand down his chest, “Glad you approve of the outfit. I made sure to wear your favorite color so that we could match.”

I glanced down at my black racerback tank top and dark wash jeans. My fashion choices were easily predictable. I’d never be the type of girl that had a closet full of pastel sundresses and flowy blouses. Did that bother him? Would Roe prefer a woman that dressed more feminine?

My own thoughts were pissing me off. When I was a kid, I’d watched my mom change her clothes, her hair, her personality to whatever man she was dating in hopes of finding love. It was something I still didn’t understand, was it really love if you weren’t yourself when you were with them? I’d sworn to never change myself for a man and if that was something Roe wanted from me then this would never work.

“Get in, we’re already late.” I slid into my car, careful to not slam my door and take out my anger on Francine. Turning the key in the ignition, I stared out the windshield and listened to the engine hum, the sounds of Roe getting in the car registering even though I wasn’t looking at him.

“I can change if you want me to.” The warmth of his palm spread over my thigh and I turned my head to look at him. His worry that he’d upset me was written all over his face.

“I’m not that girl, Roe,” I told him, deciding to find out now if this was going to be a problem. We’d had too many miscommunications in the past for me to let another one fester.

“What kind of girl, Sam?” His voice was soft, understanding of what I was saying was important.

“The kind of girl that will wear dresses on dates, make sure my nails match my shirt and get my colors done to find out if I’m a Summer or an Autumn.” I bit my lower lip and waited for his disappointment.

“First of all, kitten, your nails do match your shirt. Don’t think I didn’t notice the black polish on your adorable fucking toes. Secondly, you’re clearly a Summer so no need to waste money on that. And as for dresses? I couldn’t give a flying fuck, I love the way you look, your clothes are sexy because you’re the one wearing them.”

I was more confident than most, but we all had our insecurities and I hid mine behind invisible walls that Roe kept knocking down. Every day, a little bit more of my heart belonged to him.

“Keep the shirt, you look hot.”

He preened in his seat like a peacock and I backed out of my parking space, aiming the car for Brooks’.

13

ROE

Brooks’ Bar and Grill was as busy as ever. Every table held couples, families or groups of friends eating and talking loud enough to be heard over the country music playing throughout the building. The bar was quickly filling up with patrons that were here for the drinks and good times.

We had a usual table that we sat at when we came as a team. Gage had claimed it long ago and it was rare that anyone was sitting there when we came in. We arrived to find him already seated, his back to the wall and his face in partial shadow as he glared in the direction of the bar. He was dressed in all black, his long dark hair secured in a knot and his arms crossed over his broad chest, discouraging anyone from coming near him.

Gage had just as much ink as I did, but that’s where the similarities ended. I liked color, bright splotches of red and blue filled in the black outlines of each piece of art I’d chosen for my skin. As far as I knew, every single one of Gage’s tattoos were black, a lighter gray for some of the shading and they were menacing as hell.

“What, no appetizers? Didn’t you miss us at all?” I dropped down in the chair next to him and tried not to pout when Sam sat across from me, leaving an empty chair between us.

His unusual, gold eyes shifted from the bar to me. Behind the metallic gleam, there was nothing, no emotion whatsoever, if I didn’t love the big bastard so much, I’d probably be terrified of him.

“Figured you’ve been eating fast food a lot and could use a vegetable or two. The salads are good.”

“Did he just call me fat?” I blinked rapidly and fanned my face dramatically like I was trying not to cry. Sam rolled her eyes at my antics but I saw the small upward tilt of her lips.

“Good looking out, Gage. I never realized how many cheeseburgers he eats. I’m worried he might keel over the next time we do drills." Her smile grew and she bounced her eyebrows at me in challenge. I loved verbally sparring with her, it was the best foreplay. She’d have to be punished later, my cock hardened behind my zipper at the thought.

“Hey, guys, good to see you again. What can I get you to drink?” Mia, our usual waitress, stood next to our table with her order pad in one hand and a pen in the other. Her long auburn hair was tied up in a ponytail, Brooks’ Bar and Grill was written across her white tank top and blue jean shorts completed the uniform. She smiled warmly at me and Sam, her gaze bouncing over Gage.

I looked at my friend, my mouth parting in surprise when I found those unsettling gold eyes locked on Mia. It was rare for him to make eye contact. He was banned from client interactions, because too many had complained that his demeanor made them uncomfortable, something that didn’t seem to bother him. I got it, client interactions were annoying and I’d made sure my name was added to the banned list as fast as possible. But this new development was interesting.

“Hey, Mia, just water, please,” Sam answered, oblivious to our friend’s intense observation. Maybe I never noticed his interest in Mia because I was too busy focusing on my own tall, blonde and angry obsession.

“Draft, please, Mia. Sam is my designated driver tonight,” I blew Sam a kiss and felt a jolt of pleasure at her answering scowl. My kitten was definitely getting a spanking tonight.

“Got it,” she wrote down our orders in her tiny notepad and finally looked at Gage. “And, um, for you?” She fiddled with her pen nervously, flipping it over and around her knuckles as she waited for him to answer. The longer he remained silent, the more she shifted on her feet. Jesus, Gage needed a wing man more than anyone I’d ever met. Lucky for him, he had one sitting at the same table.

“He’ll have the same as me. And three salads, please. Apparently, I need to work on my figure.”

Mia’s shoulders relaxed and she gave a small laugh. When she turned to go, I watched Gage stiffen, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Thank you…Mia,” his voice was gruff but loud enough for her to hear over the noise of the crowd and the music.

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