pressing the files to my chest.
“You’re not special.”
Gritting my teeth, I took a step back, trying to keep my head held high and not let this asshole’s words hurt me. “I’ll wait,” I hissed, shuffling back to the doorway. “I’m sure you won’t last… I mean, be long.”
I ignored the snickers from the men at the bar as I found an empty table and slammed my files on the top before taking a seat. I knew my cheeks were still flushed, and I couldn’t help but fold my legs and squeeze them together to try and ease some of the ache between them.
Goddamn man.
And his stupid beard.
And his ripped body.
And his rugged good looks.
“You bring a pen?” I pressed my hand to my heart, trying to keep it from leaping straight out of my chest. Jesus Christ. Huntsman dragged out the chair opposite me and dropped into it, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve got shit to do.”
Crinkling my nose, I reached into my handbag and pulled out a ballpoint pen, placing it on the files and sliding them across the table. “You didn’t seem so busy a few minutes ago.”
He’d begun to reach for the documents but paused, his hand hovering in the air for a second before dropping it with a thud on the small table. I stilled, suddenly very aware of who I was talking to. Huntsman wasn’t just some cocky, brooding biker. He was my boss.
“I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”
“You’re damn right,” he warned, picking up the pen finally and wrapping his large fingers around it. Though, the tension settling in the air around us made it feel like those fingers were on my throat. Squeezing. “What I do in my own fucking clubhouse is none of your business. And neither is where I stick my cock. Unless I’m sticking it in you. So, are you fucking offering?”
“No, sir,” I rushed out, my brain winning out over my pussy, which was screaming yes, sir. “No. You’re right. I apologize.”
He clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring before he finally opened my folder.
The deep suffocating breath I’d been holding finally eased out, my shoulders falling with the long steady breath. The apology tasted bitter, burning my tongue.
I’d spent a large part of my life letting men dictate my life, with orders, and threats, and abuse. I told myself a long time ago I wouldn’t allow myself to sink below them. No matter what, even if it meant sacrificing.
But the truth was, this was my dream job.
It would give us so much stability.
It would allow us to stop running.
And if I had to suck up a little bit of my pride for now and give in to this arrogant asshole—so be it. Lesson learned.
From now on, if Drake wasn’t around to deal with problems, those problems could wait. The energy Huntsman had swirling around him was too much. It was intense, like a cyclone. One I knew could so easily suck me in and tear me to shreds.
Though, I was fairly sure I would probably love it.
“Is that all?” He flicked the folder closed, placing the pen on the top and sliding back across the table, standing at the same time.
I blinked several times, frowning as I leaped to my feet. “Um. Yeah. I thought you would want to take a good look. Maybe ask why I’d made the changes?” Now we were both standing, just a few feet separating us, and I was suddenly acutely aware of just how large this man was.
His broad shoulders and muscular upper body were practically bursting against the black shirt he was wearing underneath his leather vest, the arms looking like they could rip open at any second. There wasn’t a lot of difference in our height, maybe a couple of inches, but I still felt like his presence made it feel like he was towering over me.
He was larger than life.
“Drake trusts you. Said you do good work,” he answered. “I trust my son’s judgment.”
I couldn’t help the swell in my chest at his words. Knowing Drake had faith in my work and my design concreted my need to fight for this job, to prove even further what I was capable of.
That also meant focusing on work.
“Is that all?”
His sharp question startled me, but I quickly nodded, gathering the papers in my hands and shuffled them like the man’s mere presence didn’t make my heart race for reasons I couldn’t explain.
Or that I, at least, just didn’t want