Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

She smiled at him. He didn’t smile back, though, instead he just studied her. That was slightly strange.

Spike grunted. She risked another look at him, not sure she could withstand many more of his scowls. To her surprise, he was glaring at Damon this time. Weren’t they friends? If they weren’t then why was Spike here?

Maybe he’d come to watch the dancers? Hm. That thought didn’t sit too well with her. Why? Was she actually jealous? She didn’t even know him. And what she did know wasn’t that flattering. He seemed to intensely dislike her or at best, be constantly annoyed by her.

She laid the papers down on the linoleum floor by the bar area then she walked over to Spike. “Bag please.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my bag.”

He arched a brow. “You planning on using the stuff in it?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then no.”

She huffed out a breath at him, all too aware of their audience. “It’s my handbag. I want it back.”

“No.”

He didn’t even look regretful. In fact, he turned away from her to look at D

amon. “What will you do with him?”

“Grady will be up in a moment. Then we can all have a chat about what to do next.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “I want my bag, Spike.”

His gaze flicked back to hers. His eyes were a mix of colors. Green. Hazel. Blue. They would have been quite beautiful if he wasn’t such an ass.

Oh, who was she kidding? They were beautiful despite the fact he was an ass.

“Darn it, why’d you have to have beautiful eyes. Why couldn’t you have mean, ugly eyes?”

“Did you just call his eyes beautiful?” Damon asked with amusement.

“Urgh. Said that out loud, did I?”

“You did.” Damon looked from her to Spike. “Just how do the two of you know each other?”

“We met last night,” she said at the same time Spike spoke.

“We don’t.”

Ouch. That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Technically, they didn’t know each other. But he could have said it nicer.

She sighed. “Just give me my handbag and I promise, after tonight you won’t ever have to see me again.”

“If only I could believe that.”

With a narrowed gaze, she started tapping her foot.

“Uh-oh, that’s the look of a pissed off woman, man. You sure you want to keep on this path?” Damon asked.

“With what’s in her bag, she’s likely to shoot someone or herself.”

“There’s no bullets in my gun!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “How am I going to shoot anyone! Give me my bag.”