Bouncer by Kim Jones Page 0,10

I might regret. It’s obvious Bouncer has no idea that I’m the mystery girl from last night. I sure don’t want to hint that I am. “He’s just…a bit of an asshole. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” Sly draws, nodding in agreement. “He is. But he’ll calm down. The party last night probably still has him on edge. Just steer clear of him.”

“Don’t have to worry about that,” I mutter. I shouldn’t have. Sly is way too observant. “I’m gonna finish up in the back. Let me know if you need anything.” I offer him a smile and make a quick getaway.

I spend the next several hours restoring the clubhouse back to its original glory. By the time I’m finished, it’s sparkling clean and I’m tipsy. My work is done for the day but the night is just beginning. I settle at the bar with a fresh drink, put my feet in the seat across from me and spin my stool around to face the room.

People-watching is my favorite thing to do. Most people think that club life is all about orgies and drugs and sharing women and snorting cocaine off of bare asses, but in reality, it’s quite boring. There’s really just a bunch of beer drinking and pool shooting and classic rock music that plays on a loop all. Damn. Day.

I’m contemplating switching the station just to piss some of the guys off when I hear a familiar voice I’ve spent all day trying to forget.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

I jerk my head around to see Bouncer pull Jinx’s Ol’ Lady, Talia, into a hug. He smiles at her and…woah.

He’s sexy when he’s angry.

He’s downright breathtaking when he smiles.

A tingle rushes down my spine when I remember how I felt when he called me sweetheart.

So why the fuck is he calling her that?

And why is he being so damn nice to her, yet such a shit to me?

I sip my drink and study them. He’s so carefree with her. So nice. I think he just laughed a little. I shouldn’t feel possessive. It’s stupid. He might’ve been dreamy in the dark with me, but in the light of day, he was a complete dick. No one wants that. I, especially, don’t want that.

So why does it bother me to see him and Talia together?

I slide my cup to Cassie and am three gulps into my new drink when Talia walks away, and he turns his eyes on me. Any inkling of charm or happiness instantly fades. He’s back to looking like he ate a turd.

It must be my gloves.

I bet he wouldn’t look at me like that if he knew I changed them frequently. This is my fourth pair today.

We continue to stare at one another from twenty feet away. If he thinks I’m going to look away first, he has another thing coming. He might intimidate some of the other people around here, but he doesn’t intimidate me. I don’t give a shit who he is.

He gives me a disgusted look when I set my cup on the counter and slide it back to Cassie—never taking my eyes off him. I flip him the finger and his eyes narrow.

“Why are you staring at me like you want to put it in my butthole?” I yell out, throwing my hands in the air and sitting up in my seat. “It’s fucking uncomfortable. I’m not into you, homie.”

He looks so taken aback, I almost smile. We have the room’s attention. And there’s no doubt he knows that.

He stomps over to where I’m sitting and grabs me by the arm. He hauls me off my chair and out the side door. I struggle in protest, but I’m no match for his strength. I should be scared. But I’m just drunk enough not to be. Besides, the guys won’t let him kill me.

Will they?

“What the fuck is your problem?” he growls, practically shoving me away from him. When my feet get tangled up and I start to trip, he rights me. I slap his hands away and he steps back.

“I don’t have a problem. What’s your problem? Why are you so nice to everybody but me?”

“Because I don’t like you!”

I jerk my head back in shock. “What do you mean you don’t like me? I’m the most likable motherfucker around here.”

“You’re obnoxious and ridiculous and don’t know when to shut your fucking mouth. Or stop drinking. How much have you had today? You’ve been drinking since this morning.”

I pretend to think as I count with my fingers.