Chapter 6 #2
I make a point to stick it out a little bit and watch as his tongue trails along the seam of his lips.
My heart flutters. He isn’t scowling or sneering. He’s smiling—gazing at me with big brown eyes.
I stand for a moment, letting him look, loving the way it feels. I want to talk to him—banter like we did when we first met.
That’s when I work up the nerve to confront him. “Need a heater?”
I ask it quickly and pour it into his cup, hoping he won’t run away again.
“Thanks.”
“What happened? When we first met, you liked me. Then, something in your brain flipped, and now you hate me. Is it really my dad? I hate that fucker too, you know.”
Torren stares at me, his eyes connected with mine, with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Did I do something? Say something?”
He says nothing. Then his mouth falls open, then he shuts it again. He sighs. “Felix…I”
There’s a crash in the back, and I hear Maggie scream. I run back and see that she’s dropped a column of dishes, and shards are everywhere.
“I’ll get the broom.”
Once everything is cleaned up, I run back to the floor…
But he’s gone.
Damnit.
Friday
I’m so proud of myself. It’s my fourth day, and I feel really good. Maggie told me it feels like I’ve worked here longer, and Gilda loves me.
I’m starting to remember some of the customers’ names, and I feel confident for the first time in ages.
Torren, my handsome brute, still won’t talk to me, but there’s time for that. Right now, I’m just happy that I’m succeeding at this new experience.
Speak of the devil.
The door jingles, and Torren walks in with Gabe.
Our eyes lock, and he stands there. For a moment, I think he might turn on his heels and leave, but he takes a deep breath and slowly approaches the counter, where I’m currently standing, and cautiously takes a seat with Gabe.
“Coffee. Black.” He motions to Gabe. “He’ll take cream and sugar.
Two donuts: a double chocolate for him and an old-fashioned one for me. ”
He doesn’t even look at me as he rattles off his order, and the urge to tell him to say please is almost too strong to resist.
I decide I’m going to play nice for a change and ask, “How’s your day going?”
Gabe gives me a thumbs up, but Torren continues averting his gaze.
Hmmm…
“Day not going so well?” I pointedly ask Torren.
Torren looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “It would be better if you got my order.”
Well, fuck you, too.
I snag a double chocolate with a tissue paper, then reach for the old-fashioned donut, but stop. I look at it; it’s brown and dull—that urge from before, the desire to taunt him, returns, and this time, I can’t resist.
I think Mr. Leather Daddy could use something with a little more pizzazz.
I grab a Boston cream with rainbow sprinkles and set the plates before them.
Torren eyes the plate, then looks at me with malice in his eyes. “I said an old-fashioned.”
I feign contrition, my hands on either side of my face like I made the most horrendous mistake imaginable. “I’m so sorry, sir.” He notices the “sir.” Good, I want him too. “I’ll fix this right away.”
I snag the plate, return to the donut display, and grab a massive jelly-filled donut.
When the plate hits the counter, he pounds his fist against it. “Do I need to show you what an old-fashioned donut looks like, you moron?”
With a raised brow, I say, “I think you might. Which one is it? Can you point to it?”
His arm juts out, hand shaking with fury as he points. “That one.”
I go to the display and point at a chocolate donut. “This?”
“No, that one!”
I point to a coconut donut. “This?”
“That. One,” he spits out, veins protruding from his neck as rage consumes him.
The ridiculousness of our standoff over a donut isn’t lost on me. I’m having way too much fun.
My finger goes to a cinnamon apple donut. “Th—“
“Fuck! Do I need to come back there and wring your neck?”
A rush ripples through me, and the magnetic pull takes over. My feet slowly pad the floor, inching closer to him. I lean over the bar, my face right in front of his, look him dead in the eyes, and whisper, “Is that a threat or a promise?”
We’re completely still, eyes locked, and the world around us vanishes as his dark brown eyes trail to my lips.
The flush of frustration vanishes from his face, and what emerges is a sinister grin that makes me weak in the knees. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispers back. “Fucked up little rich boy just wants Daddy to put you over his knee and give you some attention, huh?”
“Do you wanna be my daddy?”
Torren leans closer, our faces merely inches apart, and grips the edge of the counter. The whites of his knuckles are visible, and his hands shake. “You don’t want me to be your daddy. I don’t play nice.”
“Try me,” I whisper.
His breathing accelerates. The pupils in his eyes are so dilated that they look black. “You little fuckin’ brat,” he says. He looks manic. I can see him doing everything he can to keep his hands under control.
But I want his hands on me.
I inch the tiniest bit closer, my eyes trailing down to his lips. A bead of spit catches the light from above, and I’d do anything to lick it off. “Do it,” I rasp out.
His hand approaches my neck, closing in on its target, but I don’t move. I want it. Need it. But Gabe clears his throat, snapping both of us out of our sexual tension.
Torren snaps his hands away with speed, like he touched something hot, and steps back from the counter. His eyes are wide and locked on me. The hand that almost touched me trembles at his side before he stuffs it in his pocket.
“Gabe, get this, will ya?” he asks as he backs away, never taking his eyes off me. “I’ll pay you back at the shop.”
Torren exits the restaurant, and I stand there, watching as he leaves.
Gabe slides a few dollar bills toward me, then quickly follows him out.
I’m still at the counter, wishing I could run after him, when Gilda approaches. “You really think you should be talking to Torren Kay like that?”
The way she says it gives me pause. “Why? Who is he?”
“You’ve never heard of the Kay brothers?” she asks, aghast.
Embarrassed, I shake my head. It’s clear that the Kay brothers mean something in the Patch, and I feel stupid for not knowing.
“Tobias Kay is the leader of the Hellcats,” she adds, “and his brother, Torren,” she motions to him, “used to lead it with him before he moved into the car repair shop he owns now.”
“What are the Hellcats?” I ask.
Gilda pinches the bridge of her nose. “The Hellcats are a motorcycle gang who run this part of Belmont, and they are no fuckin’ joke, baby. You’re not from around here, are you?”
I don’t want to bring up the fact that I am, in fact, from Belmont, born and raised, but know nothing about the Patch other than that my father would build a barbed-wire fence around it if he could. “I’m kind of new to the area.”
“Well, get familiar with the Kays real fast, because if you get on their bad side, you’re in deep shit. They’re good to us, help out the good ones in the community, but if you do wrong in this neighborhood or get on their bad sides…” She whistles while shaking her head.
He was in a motorcycle gang?
He’s actually dangerous?
Why oh why does that make this all even hotter?
Gilda’s rough around the edges and has a bawdy sense of humor, so I feel comfortable leaning closer and whispering, “I’ve never been more attracted to anyone in my life.”
That little statement is met with a wicked chuckle. “You’ve got a thing for the bad boys? Then you’ll fit right in. All the girls in the Patch want a piece of the Kays. A lot of boys, too, and I hear they don’t really discriminate, if you know what I mean.”
Jesus, that makes him even hotter!
A cold chill washes over me, but it doesn’t feel like a warning. The chill makes my skin itch with excitement, and I want more.
I want him.
Maggie walks through the double doors a moment later. “Did I miss anything?”
Gilda and I just look at each other with knowing smirks before we both say, “No.”