Page 18 of Wild Heart
Hayden faces him directly. “Yeah, she’s mine.” His strength jerks me sideways, away from Tucker, away from the gossiping mouths, and walks me to the rear of the bar where he corners me between the wall and a glowing jukebox. Hayden glares down at me like I’ve done something wrong.
“Hey, Hayden.” I smile up at him, wafting my lashes with flirty flare. He looks devilishly handsome with jealousy contorting his mouth to a thin line. At least I hope he’s jealous and not just territorial about his staff.
The rise of his lungs sink slowly with a controlled breath. “Why are you wearing a dress like that?” His arms cage me close to his body, and I can’t tell if he’s hiding me, sheltering me, or preparing to kiss me.
“Do you like it?” My shoulders meet the wall, and I lift my breasts a little higher.
“Women don’t dress like that here. You’ll have guys hitting on you all night in that getup.” He scowls.
“Eh… What year do you live in? Is this town so backward that you people don’t wear designer clothes?” I’m stung by his nettled tone. “I wanted some fun. This is the way I dress on a Friday night in Belfast.”
Hayden growls like a caveman. It would be sexy if his expression wasn’t so stern. “You ain’t in Belfast now. Go back to Sawyer’s. Either cover up or stay indoors.” I stare into his eyes and watch the shade of shamrocks darken by something akin to anger. It feels like I’m lost in the middle of nowhere, and Hayden has just driven up to save me, but decided I’m too much trouble to pick up.
“Why are you getting on like my father? In fact, I take that back, my father knows this is fashion. He wouldn't even tell me to cover up.” I notch my chin up higher, defying him.
“Summer,” he warns. Warm air leaves his nostrils, and I sense his calmness slipping.
My palms meet material, intending to nudge him backward, but they find a wall of rock-hard muscle that makes me pause. I love it. The urge to grip his shirt and yank him closer rushes through me. In a flash, his hand smacks the wall at my head when my fingers spread across his galloping heartbeat.
“I ain’t trying to be your dad, Summer. If you ain’t gonna go home, then you’ll sit with me and the boys all night. Otherwise, you’ll have all kinds eyeing you up.”
There’s a hoarseness to his voice that feels like magic when it rumbles. “Is this your barbaric way of asking me to have a drink with you?” I smirk, hoping it’s jealousy spurring him on. “You know, Tucker just asked me outright, he was more mannerful than you’re being right now.” I push off the wall into his face.
Hayden’s arms slide down, and he leans back when they come away from the surface. “You’re new here and onmypayroll, so I’m obligated to watch out for your safety. A duty of care and all that shit.”
Ouch.
The verbal slap burns over my face, and I feel like curling into a ball. “I can look after myself, Mr. Taylor,” I snip, thinking that I should have worn the black dress. This outfit was meant to blow his mind, not come between us. I pull the long lengths of my ponytail over my left shoulder, and the hair drapes over my chest.
It happens in a beat, a blaze of something untamed behind his eyes. Blackness swallows the ring of green, and then the intensity returns, just like that. “While you're in my hometown, honey, I’ll look after you. Somebody needs to when you show up to a bar looking like you just stepped off a catwalk in New York.”
“And that's a bad thing?”
The female singer dedicates a song to a couple who’ve been married for one year today; the crowd whoops and whistles. Neither of us look over, lost in whatever this is happening in the thick air around us.
“It’s only a bad thing when you look this good.” His head lowers. A thick vein in his neck pulsates with a fast thrum, making me question his bullheaded composure.
“Sure, I'll join you for a drink, boss,” I say playfully, fiddling with the open button on his shirt. He lightly covers my hand with his. Instead of holding it there, he pulls my roaming fingers away from him.
The space evolves between us when he shifts. “Let’s go.” Pocketing those manly hands in his jeans, he holds out an elbow and waits for me. I step into him, slipping my arm through the loop. I'm a sucker for the way he moves with the kind of swagger I only ever imagined cowboys in the movies to have. My short strides trot to keep up with him. He notices my quick pace and slows.
I can tell everyone is talking about us when he pulls out a chair and beckons for me to sit with a subtle nod of his hatted head. My hand falls free of him, and just as I go to sit down, he links my wrist, wrapping his palm around it for safety, or security, or because he can’t let go.
“This here is Levi and Clay.” He lifts a beer bottle by the neck and guzzles. “Boys, this is Summer.”
“Summer,” the two men say in unison.
The man with a beard pushes a filled shot glass across the table, presenting it to me with a rogue smile. “Welcome to Heartville, Summer.” He has dark pensive eyes that don’t glitter like Hayden’s, and he doesn’t wear a hat like the rest of them. “I’m Levi, the local mechanic.”
“Thanks, Levi. I’m his cleaner.” I nod to Hayden and grin like a wolf. I take the shot gratefully and upturn the glass once I’m done with it.
I’ve got a hundred-dollar bill stashed in my bra. Mother wasn’t quite as generous as I’d hoped, but she gave me enough to get by until I earn my first salary. Back home, it’s proper protocol for the men to buy the drinks when I’m in their company. Although, every now and again, I like to splash out, just to show them money isn’t an issue for me. I guess it’s like fluffing my peacock feathers. I usually buy the most expensive bottle of champagne for Ellie and I, because we deserve it. I’ve never thought about splurging big bucks for a magnum of Moët & Chandon. I mean, who wouldn’t?
I don't have enough money to go all out this time, but I’d still like to show Hayden that I’m worth his time. Perhaps he can see past the payroll issue and take me to bed, with him in it. It’s not like I’m in it for anything serious. I know I’m leaving at some point and a night of passion with a broody American would definitely be a talking point with Ellie. She’s in love with the American accent. When I told her I was flying out to Heartville, she all but turned green and stomped her heels. Neither of us expected me to find a guy like Hayden Taylor. “How about I buy us a few beers?”
The man opposite me chuckles like I’m funny. Hayden rises from his seat with dominance in his movements. “Jace!” he calls out to the barman. “Keep ‘em flowing, buddy.”
“I was going to buy this round.” I look up at him, feeling ever so small as he towers above me like a god of epic proportions.
