Page 5 of Wicked Bite
“I haven’t got the slightest intention of bringing trouble to your doorstep. If it happens to follow, then I suppose I’d be the one to blame for that, too. But you’d never catch me admitting to my own sins.” He kissed the back of her hand.
I looked him up and down. “You’re going to have to up your game with me.”
“I believe actions speak louder than pretty words.” He took the drink I handed him and sipped it.
“Ah, but the man with pretty words holds the keys to the kingdom.” Atlas dropped Dice’s hand. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Piper might not be into that . . .” Dice took a cherry from the fruit tray in front of her and popped it into her mouth. “She doesn’t like to be shared. You know?”
Sexy Brit chuckled under his breath. “As if I’d be the type to share, love. I find I require undivided attention when it comes to certain things.”
My eyes widened, as did Dice’s. I leaned my elbows on the bar. “Oh, I don’t know—” I motioned for him to offer an answer.
“Grayson, love. The name is Grayson.”
“Grayson.” I shared another look with Dice. “How do you know you could keep my attention?”
He ran his hand through his thick, wavy hair, and when he met my eye, I felt enthralled. His eyes were a deep mahogany color that seemed to hold all the secrets of the world and yet, he’d never tell a soul. When he took another sip of his drink, he fought not to smile. He placed the glass on the bar in front of me.
“Oh, sassy creature . . .” He gave a light chuckle that sent shivers over my body. “. . . I already have.”
He took a small step back and motioned to the crowd of people waiting for drinks that had gathered around the bar. My pulse jumped and I shook myself. “Oh, shit.”
Dice and I scrambled back to work, pouring drinks, taking orders, and cutting the line down. All the while, he never took his eyes off me, and I barely looked away from him. Even while his friend murmured to him, he didn’t look away. It was a heady feeling of being watched and liking it. The sounds of the bar fell away. There was no music, or TVs, or even people around us. There was only me and him. Sure, I was working and slinging beers as quickly as I could, but the heat of his gaze traveled over my skin, and I couldn’t help from being distracted.
When I went to the register, Dice moved to stand next to me. “Careful with that one. He looks like he bites.”
I glanced over my shoulder at him, and the two of them were chuckling like they’d just heard some inside joke. I turned back to her and rolled my eyes. “Like I’d trust anyone to get close enough to let them.”
“Touché. Because, girl, those emotional walls are high.” She bumped me with her hip. “Except for me.”
It was true, I didn’t let people in. Because generally, people tended to disappoint, except Dice. We’d grown up in foster care together and when we both aged out of the system, we became our own little family. “Yeah, well, you know how it goes.”
“I do.” She made change in the register.
“Besides, I don’t need drama. I need fun. And Grayson over there looks like the type of fun I’m looking for.”
“Yeah, well, we know your picker is broken. So don’t get too attached.”
I nodded. “That’s for damn sure. My picker of people is really broken.”
It was an ongoing joke between Dice and me. If there was a disappointing guy within a ten-mile radius, I would be attracted to him and pick him to date. I would fall for him, give him everything I was, and inevitably, he would disappoint me and break my heart. It happened time and again.
My picker is seriously broken.
Dice chuckled under her breath. “But the other one could be fun. At least in a serious fun to poke at kind of a thing.”
“That one has drama written all over him.” I took the change from the register.
“Hey!” a gruff voice yelled from the corner of the bar
We turned in unison toward the voice. A man stood there, towering over the rest of the crowd. He was slightly older and swaying on his feet. “Can I get a drink around here or what?”
I loved this type of customer, the type that knew they were bigger and louder than everyone else. The type that thought the world owed them something. I held my finger up. “Just a minute, sir.”
This was the type that would either pipe down with one good “Sir,” or he would continue along his merry little path and end up with the bouncer’s foot in his ass. But when I looked over the crowd, the bouncers were on the other side of the room breaking up a different fight.
The guy shook his empty beer bottle at me. “Been waiting long enough, sweetheart.”
