Page 13 of Clashing
“My gun show is next weekend.”
I scrunched my face. “Ugh, no. I’m sorry. I love you, but no.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you, honey.” He chuckled. “I know you don’t want to go. I was wondering if you could help out at the bar since I’ll be gone.”
“Oh.” I perked up.Finally,he’d take me up on helping out. “Of course. No problem.”
“Great. I worked out a schedule with Tammy. I’ll go over it with you when you’re done.” He twisted toward the danger to my abstinence. “Ryker, will you and the boys be around to keep an eye on Scarlett?”
“Oh my God.” I rolled my eyes. “Stop. I don’t need someone watching me.”
“You know we will be,” Ryker said. “We’re here every weekend.”
“Thanks.” Dan grinned before looking at me guiltily. “Don’t look at me like that, Scar. I know you can handle yourself, but drunk people get out of control sometimes. Nothing wrong with someone watching your back.” He walked off to serve another customer.
I ground my teeth and sent a glare at Ryker, who didn’t try to hide his smugness.
He waited until Dan wandered a fair distance away, then leaned over the counter, whispering quietly enough for my ears only, “Don’t worry, sugar. I won’t cramp your style. I’ll just watch your back and everything attached to it.”
Chapter five
Clashing
Ryker
Fridaynight,theboysand I strolled into Danny’s. I cursed when I spotted Scarlett. Watching out for her wouldn’t be easy. The skirt flowing around her thick thighs barely covered her ass. Besides that, her tank top plunged well into her magnificent cleavage.
Squaring my jaw, I strode to the bar and snatched her wrist before she walked to another table. “Change.”
“Oh, fuck off.” She twisted out of my grip easily and sauntered past me.
I cursed again and sat at the bar. Almost every pair of eyes ogled her.Goddamn her.
She returned with a glass and slammed it on the bar with a loudthud. “I know it’s scotch, but I don’t know what kind.” She tapped her long, red nails on the bar.
“You need to change. Right now.”
She crossed her arms, pushing her already visible cleavage out more. “It’s none of your business what I wear.”
“Shit, Scarlett. What would Danny say if he saw you? Everyone in this bar is eye-fucking you.” It took all my focus to not stare at her tits. They were a work of art. Supple and round and perfect for anything I could imagine.
“It’s also none ofhisbusiness what I wear.” She posted her hands on her luscious hips, glare in full force. “Yeah, everyone in this bariseye-fucking me. Including you. Stop staring at my boobs. I thought you were supposed to be watching myback?”
She stalked off to another customer, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to yell at her or fuck her really good. Probably both. She went along the line of the bar, getting drinks and throwing flirty smiles. The pain in the ass never got my scotch. I had to flag down Tammy.
After talking to the guys and Tammy, I got Scarlett practically cornered in the bar instead of walking around. We made everyone request Tammy instead. Scarlett tossed scowls my way, and I swear, she made an extra effort to stretch over the counter, giving gracious views of her tits to every customer to fucking spite me.
“You’re pissing me off,” I warned her after she was particularly flirty with another customer.
“What are you going to do about it?” Her sass made me adjust my jeans.
My mind ran wild with the creative ways I could do something about it. Flattening my palms on the bar, I leaned close enough I got a whiff of her sweet shampoo. “I’m going to bend you over this counter and smack that ass.”
Her eyes widened, but she licked her lips. Composing herself, the glint in her eye was all trouble. Then, very pointedly, she rotated toward the tap and bent over in her tiny skirt, giving me a straight view to her ass. My jaw dropped and my cock went painfully rigid.
When she straightened out, a smug smile spread over her face. “Missed your chance.” She sashayed away.
She was so not what Danny described. I didn’t remember all he said, but the wordsshyandsweetstood out. I liked this version much better. Even if it pissed me off.
