Page 7 of The Biker and the Gamer
According to his files, his name is Alec Vaughn.
I’ve been aware of them for the past month. The crew of super-tanned, preppy, Californians driving all around Denver in funky Jeep Wranglers with video cameras, tall microphones, and various unidentifiable apparatuses, doing God knows what. Found out that they’re a bunch of hotshot game developers, here doing fieldwork for their next “big” game or whatever. I figured sooner or later one or all of them would end up at The Metal House, what with the reckless way they’ve been driving those Jeeps.
What Ididn’texpect, was the effect one of them would have on me.Thisone. The Asian-American. Alec Vaughn.
It’s the strangest thing, considering he’s not even remotely my type. For one, he’s got a terrible sense of style. Like now, he’s wearing linen pinstripe trousers with an anime print t-shirt underneath a plaid flannel and a denim jacket. Complete, of course, with a pair of ridiculously ugly green loafers, sockless.
Second, he’s bespectacled.
And third, he’s pretty. Too pretty. And clean-cut. Well-bred. Different.
The complete opposite of my type.
But he has the most intense stare. One that’ll leave you breathless. One that makes me question myself.
Just as he’d done the last time, he locks those intense, mud-brown eyes on me, and I just stand there, pinned, mint melting on my tongue.
It’s not as if I wasn’t expecting him. His Jeep has been ready since Saturday. But we only notified him around two hours ago after the assigned mechanic did one last clean sweep, knowing what a stickler I am for getting the job done thoroughly and efficiently.
And just like the last time, I’mpissed. Because I just don’t get it! Don’t get why his stare affects me so much.
I like my men big, bad, and rough. Leather jackets and dirty jeans. Smokers and drinkers. Tats and brawns. Filthy-mouthed and dysfunctional.
This gamer isnoneof those things. But his eyes...dammit, those eyes. The way he looks at me.
It makes me feel weird, uncomfortable, naked. He looks at me like he knows me, can see right through me. And I hate it. And, in extension, I hate him.
Anyone who’s able to have such an effect on me automatically inherits my hate.Icontrol my feelings. Always. Ensure they never get out of line. And I get the feeling this guy has the power to cause chaos out of my controlled feelings.
While I stand there, silent and glaring, Lisa greets him, asks him about his weekend, updates him on the issues found and mended, the charges added.
His attention is on me the entire time. Like, what the hell?
He looks away only briefly to answer something Lisa asks him before his gaze finds mine again.
When Lisa excuses herself to go print off his final paperwork in the back office, he shuffles along the length of the counter until he’s directly in front of me, drumming his fingers, his full lips kicking up in a good-boy smile. “Pleasure to see you again, Kendra.”
“Kenny,” I correct. “And it’s more than a pleasure to see you again, since it means we’re getting paid.”
He laughs, showing his shockingly white teeth. Clearly he doesn’t smoke. Probably sucks his coffee through a straw. Either that or his dentist is living in a mansion from all the money he’s made off of him. “I was hoping for that.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Hoping for what?”
“A smartass remark from you.”
Seriously?“And I was hoping you’d be better dressed this time. Seems only one of us got what we wanted.”
He glances down at his attire, his arms lifting. “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”
“It’s one thing to get dressed in the dark,” I say, “but it’s another to come out in the light and not have a single honest friend to point out that you’re committing a crime against fashion. You need new friends, dude.”
He props his elbows on the counter, grin slanted. “Well, maybe you should be my friend. You’re honest enough.”
My mouth opens, about to hit him with ‘I’m good, Luv. Enjoy,’ but Lisa returns in time, presenting him with papers to sign.
“Here are your keys,” she tells him once the process is done. “Your Jeep has been brought around. Thank you for choosing The Metal House. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Vaughn.”
He takes the keys. “Thank you, Lisa.” Then his gaze comes back to me as he absently tunnels the papers in his hands. “What about you, Kendra? Has it been a pleasure for you, too?”
