There’s no way I’m going to let this angry, rough-around-the-edges biker scare me, even though I am a little intimidated.
The man reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me back slightly.
“Listen, sweetheart, I don’t have time for your prissy girl games. I need to speak to Braden, and it needs to happen now. Don’t make me ask again.”
I know a threat when I hear one, and I gasp as I try to free myself from his grasp, which tightens with my every squirm and wiggle.
“Don’t threaten me.”
His lips, so pink against the scruff on his jaw, curve into a menacing grin.
“I don’t threaten, honey. I make promises, and I always keep my promises.”
His grip loosens, and I yank my arm away.
“My name isn’t sweetheart or honey, thank you very much, and I don’t care about your threats. Pastor Braden is out securing items for our church members in need, and I will not interrupt that for whatever it is you need. If, in fact, you need anything.”
The man takes a few steps forward, forcing me to step back or risk being plowed over. Too late, I realize my mistake. My fear leaves me—literally—stuck between rock-hard abs and the wall.
“Oh, I need something, honey, and I’m not a man you want to keep waiting.”
His masculine scent overwhelms me, and the only thing I can focus on is his lips as they move, the beauty of the movements so at odds with the hateful words coming out of them.
“I see threats are your go-to move.” I push at his chest, but the darn man refuses to budge. “Excuse me.”
He laughs. “Excuse me,” he says in a mocking tone. “Such a good little girl.”
He says the words like it’s a bad thing, but I am what I am, and I’m not ashamed of that.
“Nothing wrong with being a good girl, at least not to the right kind of people. Good people.”
He smiles again, and my breath catches in my chest.
“Well then, sweetheart,” he draws the word out interminably long as if he’s trying to rile me up. “Be a good little girl and get Braden back here. Now.”
He takes a step back, but his gaze never leaves my face. Even behind the barrier of his sunglasses, I can feel the heaviness of his stare. “Now,” he growls at me.
I gasp at the fire in his tone and slip away from my prison between his body and the wall, making a quick escape to my office. Heart racing, I wonder who this man is and what he wants with Pastor Braden.
“I don’t hear you calling Braden, good girl.”
His deep voice startles me even though I didn’t think my escape had gotten rid of him. I look up. My goodness.
He’s whipped off his sunglasses, and I stare up at the most gorgeous, deepest shade of green eyes I have ever seen. They soften his features, his rugged jaw, and sharp cheekbones. Everything is highlighted, handsome and appealing without the sunglasses. I feel something unfurl in my belly, something unfamiliar, and I shut it down, whatever it is, and roll my eyes.
“My name is Letty. Not sweetheart. Not honey. And certainly not good girl.”
“Fine,” he growls. “Letty, call Braden and tell him to get his ass back to the church. Now.”
He kicks a long leg back to close the door, leaving me trapped in my office, his body a giant barrier between me and an escape route.
I open my mouth to repeat my words, but he stalks over to the desk and lays his palms flat to lean in, so all I can see are tattoos and beautiful green eyes.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
I swallow around the lump of fear growing in my throat and nod as I push away from my desk to put some distance between us.
“Marjorie has his number. I’ll need to go to—”