Page 46 of Some Like 'Em Burly
Meg still gives me the evil eye. She likes to complain that she’s scarred from finding Clem’s sports bra dangling from the trellis two years ago.
“If I find any underwear in my new apartment, I swear to god.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I cross my heart, then wink at Clem when the others turn away.
It’s good to have my daughter back and happy. Good to get her settled and safe.
And afterward, it’ll be good to get my Clementine home.
III
Guarded by a Broody Biker
Description
I’m desperate, so I hire the meanest, most brutal-looking bodyguard I can find.
But my grumpy savior makes me tingle all over…
My ex-boyfriend has been threatening me, trying to bully me back. He even broke into my home last night and rifled through my stuff, so I’m freaked out when I scrape together my savings and hire a bodyguard to protect me.
Axel is perfect for the job. He’s big, scarred and rough, with tattoos inked on his skin and a wicked knife at his belt. The first time I see him,Iflinch, and that’s exactly what I need.
But as he spends his days and nights guarding me, Axel’s not at all how I thought he’d be.
Underneath that scowl, he’s sweet. Possessive andhot.
And soon I can’t stop craving his scarred hands on me…
Jem
Ifinally snap on a drizzly Friday morning.
It’s cold and damp outside, and the miserable weather has chased an extra-big crowd through the doors of the old market hall. The new customers mill around the stalls, bumping shoulders and scanning the different wares on sale, and the air is thick with the musty smell of their damp overcoats.
Raindrops drum against the domed glass ceiling high above. The loud buzz of conversation makes my head throb. Folks browse for second hand books and haggle over the cost of handmade soap, pointing at the weirder things for sale on the tables.
Meanwhile, my stall is tucked off in the corner, away from the worst of the crowd. People keep shuffling past, but they’re not packed close together, elbows jabbing in ribs, like they are in the middle of the market.
Normally I’m kinda salty about my stall being on the edge, wishing I could be closer to the action so I could sell more candles and maybe order from my favorite pizza place in celebration. A big sales day is a big deal for me. But today…
Today I’m relieved to be invisible. I huddle in my cheap metal seat, the rickety leg wobbling beneath me, and draw my scarf up and over my chin. Even though it’s muggy in here with all these bodies, even though I should be on my feet and calling peopleover to smell my candles, instead I’m trying to fold myself so small that I disappear.
It was a dream,I tell myself over and over.You got stressed and had a bad dream.
There’s no way my ex boyfriend really broke into my apartment last night. That would be insane, and Peter isn’t like that. He’s measured, calculating, cool.
“What are these, then?” A man in his forties asks, stopping by my stall and hitching up his belt. He’s barrel-chested but soft all over, and there’s more gray than brown in his hair. He sniffs and surveys the display of candles on my table, with their handwritten labels and the purple velvet tablecloth, like an emperor surveying his kingdom. A blunt finger prods at a vanilla and beeswax set.
“Candles,” I say dully, burrowing deeper into my scarf. We get people like this in the market all the time—Looky Loos who only want to quiz you, never buy—and I’m in no mood to stroke this guy’s ego by playing along.
“You should light them,” the man declares. “Candles are better when they’re lit. You’ll draw people over here like moths to a…”
He grins, rocking on his heels.
I sigh into my scarf. “Flame?”
The man throws his head back and booms out a laugh, drawing a few curious glances from nearby. When he straightens, he digs in the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a lighter. My spine goes stiff.
