even as my mind hadn’t decided whether to go. The parking lot is packed, and when I get inside, I see it’s just as crowded. Stella is at the register talking animatedly with a guy who legitimately has an honest-to-God mullet. Tiff is nearly being fondled by a dusty ass old man, and Carl is slumped over drunk at a table in the corner. It all seems familiar somehow.
The next instant, I see Madison, and all other thoughts flee my mind. She’s sexy as always, setting down a Moscow Mule in front of a hipster-looking couple. Desire courses through me as I find an empty foot of wood at the bar and shoulder my way in.
Madison is at the other end of the bar, her back turned, giving me a great view of her ass . . . but also giving the other guys around me the same view. They’re looking at her like a side of meat and it pisses me off.
She’s mine. And she deserves better than this . . . these assholes. This place. This job. Madison said Stella has bent over backward to help her, but there’s only so much Stella can do. And that’s a hell of a lot less than I can.
I could give her more, so much more.
Wait. What the fuck am I thinking? She’s not mine, and I’m not giving her the world on some fucking silver platter. I barely know her. Just one date, some texts, and an admittedly epic fuck.
But something inside me knows that’s not true. Something about her is different. It’s the way she challenges me, the way she asks me questions and the way she looked at me while I was standing at the head of the boardroom table. She wasn’t impressed by the potential power I will have as the head of Danger Enterprises. She was only interested in the power I had over her. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about my last name. She just likes me. And that feels . . . strange and exciting.
I saw something in her eyes that night, something that’s inside me too.
And it’s growing.
I keep thinking she needs me to save her from her hard life. But maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I need her to save me from a life filled with cold indifference. All my worries fade away when she smiles at me or when she’s in my arms. I could get addicted to that feeling. Addicted to her. Fuck.
Madison plops a beer mug on the bar and turns. Her face lights up when she sees me, and something tight in my chest loosens. She walks my way, and I hold her gaze, not letting it go, even as I catch the head swivels from the guys as they watch her pass in my peripheral vision.
“Hey!” she greets me as she leans against the bar in front of me.
Needing to stake my claim, I lean across the bar, planting a greeting kiss on her lips as I wrap my hand around her neck. It’s not as long as I’d like, but the taste of her settles my ire. “How’s it going, baby?”
I can see in her eyes how exhausted she is, but whether it’s from slinging drinks or from the way she’s treated by her customers, I’m not sure. Hopefully, my being a possessive fucker helps settle that matter, at least.
She licks her lips, tasting me too, and I collect her heated flush like a prize. “Better now that you’re there. How was work?”
Her country accent seems even thicker than before. But I love it.
“Not too bad. I’d say I’ve got as many wolves to deal with as you do.” I say, giving her a wink.
“Yeah, but you get to wear a suit,” Madison points out. “So, Snow Queen?”
“Nah . . . surprise me with something you think I’ll like,” I reply. I watch as she turns and picks a bottle of cognac off the top shelf. She adds a few more ingredients and then sets the drink in front of me with a flirty smile.
“Here you go. Something high-class and classic. A Remy Sidecar.”
“Never had one, but if you suggest it, I’m sure I’ll love it. Much like your other suggestions,” I say, letting my voice drop low. Every guy around us thinks I’m talking about something sexual, not realizing Madison’s suggestions equated to a sweet ice skating date, but I’m damn sure not going to explain. Fuckers shouldn’t be eavesdropping anyway.