Chapter 10
SUNDAY
This is too much. The girls warned me it was a lot, but they didn’t mention that meeting the Reapers for the very first time would knock the air from my lungs and replace it with pure heat.
They are gorgeous. Every single one of them.
Tall, tattooed, and menacing with a protective vibe that leaves me panting.
There are more men in here than I have ever seen in one place in my life, and when I say men, I mean that in capital letters.
It’s overwhelming, almost too much to take in, and yet one in particular has already taken a wrecking ball to my soul.
I caught his eye and I couldn’t breathe.
I must be seeing double because there are two of them, twins I’m guessing.
But one of them stands taller, is more of a force than the other, and he is staring at me with indifference.
Unlike the cute one who is flirting outrageously.
The other twin is respectful but cool, and I respect that a lot.
It’s too much to handle, and yet my eye is drawn to the surly biker who leans forward on the stool, his arms against the countertop as he moodily waits for a cold beer.
I am glad to turn away. I can’t stop staring at him and yet I only get a minute before I present three beers to three very impressive men. Britney told me it was a lot, but nothing prepared me for this, and I’m not certain I can cope with this on a daily basis.
As I push the beer his way, he grunts, a slow wink my thanks before his eyes drop to the counter. His brother thanks me at least with an appreciative smile, and then the more outgoing one brushes his fingers against mine as he takes the bottle from my hand.
“So, Sunday. I’m available to give you the guided tour if you like. I’m Creed, by the way.”
He winks and his sexy smile causes my heart to race, but for some reason he leaves me cold inside.
I’m not interested in an obvious player.
Hell, I’m keeping my distance from most men after the last few months.
Perhaps that’s why I am drawn to the surly biker who isn’t interested.
He’s a safe haven in a turbulent world, and I wonder about that.
“Back off, Creed.”
Britney saves me and heads our way. “Leave Sunday alone; she’s just got here and doesn’t need you hitting on her before she’s even unpacked.”
“Spoilsport.”
Creed turns his attention to Britney, who tosses her eyes and, leaning forward, whispers something in his ear that causes his grin to almost split his face.
“Sure, baby. How long?”
“Give me thirty and I’ll meet you outside.”
He smiles before dropping back to approach a group of bikers chatting on a nearby couch, and Britney whispers, “One night with Creed is worth a lifetime married to your childhood sweetheart. Man, I’m the lucky one tonight.”
My blood heats as her meaning hits me. Is this what my life is now? Serving drinks to horny bikers and then, well, I can’t even comprehend what happens next.
Another guy calls out, “Blade. We need you to settle an argument.”
He scrapes back his stool and heaves a deep sigh. “If it’s another ‘who’s got the biggest dick competition’, kill me now.”
His brother says nothing, doesn’t even glance in his direction, and as his brother heads off, it’s a little awkward being left alone.
Spying a nearby cloth and spray bottle, I set about cleaning the countertop, wondering if I should attempt conversation at all. It appears he prefers his own company, and I must respect that. Then he lifts his head, and his eyes connect with mine in a moment that will never leave me.
I stop breathing.
Two deep blue eyes stare into mine, direct, unreadable but burning with something I can’t place. His mouth wraps around the bottle and as he drains it, he lowers it to the counter and says huskily, “Sunday is a good choice of name.”
“Um, thank you.”
I edge a little closer on the pretence of grabbing the empties, and as I approach, my entire body thrums with need. For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with me? I’m sworn off men—forever, but there is something about this man that tears that contract to shreds.
“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
I’m wondering where this courage has come from, and he nods. “Razor.”
“On account that you obviously lost yours.”
I can’t help the comeback—I always have one and for some reason it tugs a smile from his silent lips.
This man is like a mountain beast. Six feet and then some.
Dark hair that hangs to his shoulders, a bandana wrapped around his head and a full beard that makes me wonder if he’s hiding from something.
His body is two well-stacked men combined, and the tattoos that stretch against the taut muscles are many, the usual Grim Reaper wielding a deadly scythe.
There are other things on his body: scars, words, numbers, and images of death.
He is wearing several leather braids around his wrists; his hands huge, appearing as if they could crush anything in their grasp.
He is dressed in leather and a fuck-off attitude, and my legs are weak, my blood molten, and my pussy clenched.
“You got another beer handy, darlin’?”
He almost smiles, and I am so flustered I wonder what he is talking about. Then I remember what I’m supposed to be doing and nod vigorously.
“Of course, um, coming right up.”
I sense his eyes burning into me from behind and I am choking with interest in the enigmatic giant who blurs my vision.
My hands shake as I slide the beer his way, and he nods, his voice gruff. “Thanks, darlin’.”
Another Reaper leans on the bar. “Hey, darlin’. You must be the new girl. I’m Joey.”
For some reason Razor’s fist balls on the counter, but otherwise he stares straight ahead as if he is somewhere else entirely.
“Um, hi Joey, I’m Sunday.”
I smile at the newcomer, and he whistles. “Man, you are a sight for sore eyes, darlin’. If you need anything, I’m your man.”
His interest is obvious, and although Britney warned me I’d be hit on repeat by these guys, it’s a lot to deal with. I’m a little shocked when Razor growls ominously, “Fuck off, Joey. She’s new, go and hit on someone else.”
The air is tense, and I forget to breathe as I wait for some kind of altercation to take place. The tension is so thick I could touch it, and yet Joey merely grins. “Message received, Razor. Welcome, Sunday. I’ll see you around.”
As he heads off, my gaze is drawn once again to the man at the bar and he peers at me through his enigmatic eyes and whispers gruffly, “I’m guessing you are here for a reason and won’t appreciate the guys hitting on you twenty-four seven.”
“Um, thanks.”
I edge a little closer, my curiosity getting in the way of nerves, and I say in a low voice, “It’s a lot, I admit that. Will this ever get normal for me?”
His eyes flash.
“That depends on how long you’re staying.”
“How long do most people stay?”
He shrugs. “That depends.”
It’s obvious he’s not the talking kind, and that intrigues me even more. And then Britney calls, “Hey, Sunday. Come and meet Carla; she’s just got back from babysitting duty.”
I smile at Razor, but he’s already studying his bottle again, and I’m surprised at how reluctant I am to leave his side.
Why am I interested in a man like him? It doesn’t make sense, but I am.
The way my heart falters, my speech shakes, and my pussy clenches tells me there is something about this man that speaks to my soul, but from the look of him, it’s not reciprocated.
Reluctantly, I head over to the girls, wondering if I’ll be watching him disappear with one of the women later tonight, and I already hate the idea of that.