Revive (Storm MC 3)

Understanding dawned on his face. “I see your point.”

“Right, so can we please get back to work now? I’ve got a date with a bar stool in a

bout an hour and I don’t want to be late.”

***

Two days later, I was on my way to work when Madison called me. “How’s my favourite hairdresser?” she asked.

“Tired and grumpy.”

Her laugh tinkled softly through the phone. “You’re always tired and grumpy in the morning, Roxie.”

“Yeah, well who the hell wants to be out of bed so bloody early? Not me, babe.”

“Maybe you should have gone into a different line of work; something you could do at night.”

“Perhaps I should ask your brother for a job at the strip club,” I muttered. It was way too early to be engaging in conversation.

“Oh God no. You’d suck at that.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t shake my thing as well as the other chicks he’s got working there?”

Laughing again, she said, “I’ve seen you shake your thing and you could definitely keep up with those girls. No, what I meant was that you wouldn’t put up with the dirty men and the way they stare and try to touch. You’d be trying to punch them; you’d be bad for business, hon.”

I yawned and scrubbed my hand over my face. She was right; there was no way I’d put up with men pulling that shit on me. Hell, I couldn’t even understand how Harlow worked the bar in that joint. “You’ve got a point,” I agreed before asking, “Why are you calling me so early?”

“I’m just checking in with you to see if you’ve changed your mind on Nash helping you work out who keeps breaking in and trashing your shop. Plus I need to reschedule my appointment.”

“I haven’t changed my mind and as for your appointment, I’m not at the shop yet so can you just text me what you want to change it to and I’ll sort that out once I get there.”

“Bloody hell, woman. Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?”

I was just about to answer her when I rounded the corner to my shop and discovered to my extreme anger that someone had smashed my window yet again.

“Motherfucker,” I snapped. “Sorry Madison, I’ve gotta go,” I said and ended the call. I took in the mess before me. Broken glass every-fucking- where and graffiti on the one window they hadn’t smashed.

Whore.

Shit. That didn’t quite fit with the message he’d left me the other day and now I was left wondering if my theory was right.

“Mean something to you?” a deep voice rumbled from behind me and I jumped in shock. I’d thought I was alone.

I spun to face whoever was there and sucked in a breath at the sight in front of me. He was tall. He had muscles trying to shove their way out of the fitted black tee he’d covered them with. His hair was black, thick and slightly wavy so that it fell across his eyes. And good, fucking gracious, the scruff on his face just about made my legs collapse under me.

“Who are you?” I breathed out.

He whipped his sunglasses off to reveal an intense set of green eyes. Without answering me, he pulled his phone out of his jeans and strode over to the window with the graffiti, and took a photo. He then returned to where I was and began taking photos of the rest of the mess.

I grabbed for his arm and hit rock hard muscle on his bicep. “I asked you a question,” I said, annoyed at being ignored.

He stopped taking photos and focused those gorgeous eyes on me. There was a flicker of something there; I wasn’t sure what though. It was like an untamed energy; something definitely swirled beneath the surface of this man and it unsettled me while at the same time unleashed butterflies in the pit of my stomach. And damn, for the first time in a very long time, I was unsure of myself.

“I’m Liam,” he stated as if that answered any and all questions I might have.

I raised my eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

His eyes shifted between mine, and it appeared that he was carefully scrutinising everything in front of him; the shop, the mess and me. Most definitely me. And it unnerved me even more than he already had. Eventually, he spoke, “Zane sent me to help you with your security issues.”