“The what?” Arm porn? Jess really did come out with some weird shit sometimes.
She grinned. “Did you get a look at his fucking arms? They’re like looking at porn, babe. Guaranteed to get you off on sight.”
I had to laugh. “I guess that’s one way to think about it. And yeah, I did get a look at them.”
“And?” She had that excited energy about her which usually meant she was formulating plans in her head.
I put my hand on my hip and gave her a stern look. “And what?”
“Oh god, Layla! Do you even notice when men are interested in you?” she asked me, looking exasperated.
“He’s not interested in me,” I muttered, trying to ignore the flutter in my belly. I may have been attracted to him, but to get involved with him could only be a bad idea. The shit he seemed to be involved in wasn’t anything I wanted to be near.
Jess pulled a face. “He is. You’ll see.”
Yeah, we’d see, but I had no interest in pursuing anything.
Well, maybe sex. That couldn’t hurt, could it?
***
He stepped through the front door of the bar at near midnight that night, and my tummy fluttered again. Just at the sight of him.
Dear lord.
I stood at the bar and watched as he strode toward me. He was wearing his standard outfit – jeans and black t-shirt teamed with his heavy boots. Tattoos peaked out from under his sleeves, and they only served to accentuate his muscles.
And turn me on.
“You okay?” he asked when he met me at the bar. Concern creased his face, and I wondered if I should be worried.
“Yeah, why?”
“Just checking. You haven’t seen or heard from Mario?”
“No,” I answered him, and then added, “
Should I have?”
He raked his hand through his hair. Not that he had a lot of hair; it was cut quite close to his head. I had a thing for bald men, so I loved that. Pushing out a breath, he said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you. Been a long day with a lot of shit going down, so I just wanted to make sure Mario was keeping his end of the bargain.”
I relaxed and pulled out the scotch to pour him a drink. It seemed he needed one. “You looking for a reason to get those fists out?”
His brows rose. “Am I that easy to read?”
I slid his scotch across the bar, our eyes fixed on each other. “Just a little.”
He picked up his drink and held it for a moment while maintaining eye contact with me. I couldn’t shift my gaze even if I’d wanted to. And it seemed he couldn’t, either. He finally drank some of the scotch, his eyes still on mine. Placing the glass on the bar, he murmured, “Knew you were dangerous.”
What he said didn’t make any sense, but before I could ask him what he meant, he said, “I’m gonna take a seat. Can you keep the drinks coming?”
“Sure.”
I watched as he walked away.
What he hell did he mean by that statement?
I didn’t have time to contemplate it because Annie came down to the bar and distracted me. She’d been crying again, and my gut seized with apprehension.