Chapter 6 Marty
“Gracias, Marty!” Dayana said as one of the prospects, as Griffin had called them, helped her carry her new TV to her car.
“De nada!” I waved at the woman who had been working here longer than me.
She smiled, her gaze grateful, before turning to point the baby biker, as I now called prospects, toward her car.
I sipped on a Diet Coke as I looked around.
I was dusty, the sweat on my skin had dried, and the sun had gone down on Vegas only to have the Strip light up with the brightness of all the hotels in the distance.
Our casino had lights of its own, but since I was sitting at the back of the building, it was the lights from the Strip that shined brighter than the stars that littered the dark sky.
I felt my lips quirk upward.
I was happy.
Content, despite probably looking like a mess still wearing the coveralls, protective glasses sitting top of my head.
My first day back at work had been the most satisfying twelve hours I’d had in a very long time.
If not my whole life. My eyes skirted over to where the tall, tatted-up biker responsible for that stood.
He was busy talking to other employees, and I couldn’t help but watch him.
He was sexy. Broody and mysterious yet… easy to be around.
It mystified me how he felt like someone I’d known my whole life.
The way he stood with confidence and a smidge of swagger yet not an ounce of pretentiousness or entitlement.
He looked everyone directly in the eyes.
I knew firsthand just how those mossy, almost olive-green eyes seemed to pull you in and made you feel like you were the only one in existence within a fifty-mile radius.
Or maybe that’s just you? a voice perked up in the back of my head.
I shook it off as I watched and observed him.
He might order around the prospects to help, but he did it with respect when I knew he didn’t have to.
And that meant more to me than anything.
It made me feel like I was melting, swooning over some bad boy when I knew better than to do that.
Instead of busting things up, we’d carried them down to the main floor and had put the things up for a ridiculously low price of ten to twenty bucks each.
And for the bigger pieces of furniture that wouldn’t fit in, let’s say someone’s sedan or, hell, in their arms while they took the bus back home, Griffin got those employees rides in trucks the baby bikers drove to deliver and set up said furniture.
The man was something else.
And I was screwed by the way he looked and treated me. At the beginning, when I’d first seen him, I’d thought maybe it was nothing more than him feeling guilty for what had happened in the meeting.
But now I wasn’t so sure.
Not when he’d balked at the idea of me helping carry stuff down or help disassemble the bed frames or things that would be too big to carry as is or load into the trucks.
But the moment I’d touched his forearm, covered by that damn coverall that shouldn’t have made him look as hot as it did, he relented, giving in to my request even though he made it clear he didn’t want to, and we got to work.
He hadn’t been shy to share how impressed I’d left him with how good I was with tools.
He hadn’t even made some stupid joke with a double entendre over it, either.
It made me like him even more.
As if feeling my gaze, Griffin turned, and our stares connected across the lot.
For a moment, even though we were surrounded by a few people, it felt like it was only the two of us.
I watched as he took one last drag of the cigarette he’d been smoking with Ace, another patched member of the Steel Sinners, and exhaled.
The white smoke clung to the darkness before disappearing.
I lost his gaze as he turned and said something to Ace.
The younger biker, who had been fun to work with, nodded and patted Griff on the shoulder before tossing his own cig on the ground and putting it out with the front end of his boot and walking off toward the other guys.
Before I knew what was happening, Griffin started to head in my direction. All while unzipping the coveralls. I could have easily pulled my camera out and videotaped him, popped it on any social media platform, and gone viral with the show he was giving.
The coveralls were bunched at his waist, the white tank underneath clung to the hard ridged muscles of Griffin’s body, and I couldn’t help but lick my lips.
Maybe I need to get laid? It had been a long while, too long, since I’d welcomed a man’s hands on my body.
And Griffin’s inked-up calloused hands would more than definitely do the trick.
“You okay?” he asked the moment I was within his reach before his arm pulled me a step or two closer than I’d been. He had been doing that all day, and it was wreaking havoc on my nervous system. Not to mention my panties.
“Peachy,” I smarted off. His lips twitched. “I’m sweaty,” I warned with a lie. The sweat on my body had dried.
“You’re perfect,” he casually said, and I tried to ignore the genuineness in his voice or the way my belly got all warm and gooey.
“Hardly,” I scoffed half-heartedly because if I was honest, the man had somehow started to chip away at the walls I had built around myself in less than twenty-four hours.
“Ready for dinner?” he asked, and I blinked.
“Dinner?” I asked. “I thought we were done.” I pointed out the fact everything had been purchased.
It was gone. All the contents of the five hotel rooms on that floor were sold off and on to their new homes.
Some of the prospects would be pulling the carpets tonight and others would be painting and reflooring.
From what Griffin had shared, that whole floor would be all done and fixed up and fully remodeled before the weekend arrived.
“It is.” He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. And my eyes soaked in the sight of his bicep bulging and his forearm straining. “But I figured I could take you to dinner, then we can go to the grocery store, and you help me,” he laid out, snapping me out of my lust-filled thoughts.
“Grocery store after we go to dinner?” I repeated, looking at him through confused eyes, trying to bite away the excitement that seemed to spark to life whenever I was around him and he opened his mouth.
“Yup.” Yup. Like this domestic activity was something we’d done a hundred times. Yup. Like we’d known one another for a lifetime instead of having just met.
“Help you? With what?” I frowned, sure that this was when the other shoe was going to drop. This was when Griffin would say something stupid. Something that would show me exactly what a walking red flag he was.
“The club’s matching what was donated for the club and we’re going to buy snacks for the breakroom.”
“Snacks? So that we can buy them on our breaks?” I asked, taken aback by the suggestion and not hating the idea.
“What?” He sounded almost horrified. “No! So, you guys can eat them. I noticed earlier there isn’t even a vending machine in there.” He made a face. “That ain’t right, spitfire.” He winked, and I knew he’d just taken down a bigger chuck of my walls.
“But if we paid for them, we could keep buying more—“
“Don’t worry about that. Pope approved that, too. He was actually surprised that wasn’t something we did already.” He shrugged.
He stepped away from me, and I felt the cooler air drift between us, touching my still over-heated skin. I watched in silence as he took off the rest of his coveralls and shrugged on his leather vest, running a hand over his head, his closely-trimmed hair slightly spiky.
“Ready?” he asked, and I was just about to take his hand when I glanced down at myself. I was still dressed in coveralls. I had sweated and exhausted myself for the last couple of hours. I probably looked like a mess. There was no way I could go like this.
“As fun as that sounds, I should probably go get my things and head home,” I rasped. I hated every single syllable coming out of my mouth. The idea of walking away felt wrong.
“Oh. Right.” Some of the light in his green eyes dimmed, and I felt like the world’s biggest bitch for being responsible.
“It’s just… it’s been a long day.” And if I go with you, I’ll beg you to fuck me senseless against the brick wall of whatever restaurant we end up at. The honest words clung to the tip of my tongue.
I could see it in my mind’s eye.
It would be hot.
Toe-curling.
I had no doubt that Griffin would be more than capable of providing what my body needed. And it might make me sound a little slutty, but any other time, I would have done it.
I wasn’t the type of woman who wore her heart on her sleeve, nor some blushing virgin.
A woman had needs, and I wasn’t shy of getting those needs met.
Men were easy to find in a darkened bar or at a club.
Something fast and easy to take care of an itch.
But there was a long list of why I shouldn’t go there with Griffin.
After the day I’d had, the sides I’d seen of his man who was literally my wet dream come true, I couldn’t risk it.
Not because of my job, though if I had any kind of common sense, that alone should have stopped me. But my job wasn’t what I couldn’t risk. If anything, it was a part of me I’d thought no longer felt anything for anyone other than my mom and sisters—my heart.
“Anyhow.” I smiled, probably way too big.
“It was fun.” Something inside me softened.
I had worked at the casino for three years, and I’d never, not once, laid eyes on him before.
The thought of never seeing Griffin again hurt.
Which was silly. We hardly knew one another.
But as much of a bitch as I was, I wanted, no, I needed him to know how special today had been.
“Thank you for today,” I whispered, my features softened.