Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,492

the wine are the only things I have to keep myself company for the rest of the night, because Evan doesn’t text me back.

* * *

SIX YEARS AGO

The wind blows in my face, mixed with the stale summer heat as I pull into the corner store parking lot in Brooklyn. It’s late and the hustle and bustle of New York has waned, but the nightlife on this side of the city is only getting started.

Some would say it’s the bad part of town, but others say it’s the fun part. I guess it depends on what circles you run in. I’m new to New York and struggling to find where I belong. The lights and sophistication are what I came here for, but making it here isn’t so easily achieved.

I’m slow to step on the brakes and pull into the last spot on the far right against the curb that lines the sidewalk to the small store. I’ve only been here a few times, either needing to stop for gas or a quick bite to eat on my way to or from work on the west side of the city.

Several cars line the front of the store and a few men head inside as I pull up. They vary from obviously expensive to looking like they’re falling apart. The vehicles, that is.

I notice the men, and they notice me. Averting their gaze, I turn down my radio and put my car in park.

I mind my business and everyone around me seems to do the same. In the city that never sleeps, there’s always something happening. And I’m not interested in a lot of those somethings.

I grab my purse and keys in the same hand and open the car door to step out with no time to waste, but my eyes glance back to the cars and straight into a man’s gaze.

Not just any man, a man exuding power and confidence, along with defiance. Although he’s wearing a simple shirt and faded dark jeans, the way he wears them makes me think they were made to be fitted to his muscular body. He’s hot as hell, and given the way he looks at me, he could be a temptation the devil made just for me.

My driver’s side door shuts with a loud bang as I stand there caught in the heat in his eyes. He’s leaning against the hood of a car, I would guess it’s his, a shiny black Mercedes that illuminates the light from the store in its slick reflection. The windows are rolled up and tinted so dark it’s hard to see the interior. As my eyes move back to the man, my movements are slowed and I grip my keys tighter.

He doesn’t stop looking, taking me in and letting his eyes follow along my body. He obviously wants me to know that he’s watching me.

My breathing picks up and I subconsciously pull my dress down just slightly, smoothing out the cherry red pleats and wishing I hadn’t been wearing it all day. I take one step and the click of my heels keeps time as I walk forward, knowing I have to pass him on my way in.

I can’t help that my eyes flicker over to his as I grip my purse strap and settle it in place. His tanned skin is pulled taut and smooth over his muscular frame and decorated with ink. Tattoos travel from his collarbone down, peeking out from the crisp white cotton shirt and leaving a trail of intricate designs all the way down to his wrists. I’m too far away to see what they say or what they are. I know if he were in a suit, the tattoos would be hidden, but something tells me he’s proud to have them on full display.

“What are you up to?” he asks me and catches me off guard.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I tell him easily, although I don’t know how, swaying a little from side to side in a flirtatious way I didn’t intend. My body can’t help but be attracted to him. To want to know how his tattooed skin feels against my fingertips.

There’s a scar over his left eyebrow and it’s subtle, but even from this distance I notice it. As his deep, rough chuckle fills the night air and drowns out the other sounds of the city, I find myself wondering how he got it.

“A man can wonder though,” he says, making a hot blush creep