Keeping Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 2)

It’s stupid, of course. I mean, I just got done reminding myself that I had sworn off men. I sure don’t want one that has verbal issues and stalking tendencies. Still, I thought he was following me because he liked what he saw and you can say what you want, that’s damn good for a girl’s ego sometimes. At the very least, I thought he might feel some of the attraction I feel toward him.

Not that I’d ever act on it. Ever.

“That explains it,” I mumble, instead of punching him in the balls when he comes to stand over me. I finish settling in on the seat, and don’t bother looking up to acknowledge him. There’s no point.

“Explains what?” he pursues, proving he might have verbal issues, but he definitely doesn’t have hearing ones.

I put down the pencil I just picked up and look at him. I hate that he’s so pretty. He looks like he could be a movie star, or on the cover of a GQ magazine. It’s annoying. When I’m done swearing off men, I’m going to find an ugly guy. That way I don’t have to live with his freaking ego.

“All the guys chase after Gabby. She ignores them all because she only has eyes for one guy. So, if I were you, Mr. Broody, I’d just move along, because it’s a lost cause there.”

“Why do they chase after her?” he questions, making me rethink the whole he’s nonverbal line of thought.

“Gee, I don’t know. Why are you?” I lean back to look at him. He surprises me by sitting down—not on the bench, but on the top of the table, his feet down on the bench part. I take him in, my mind filing away little pieces of his appearance to check out later—if he keeps annoying me that is.

“I never said I was, Red. You did.” He doesn’t move his gaze away from me and, for some reason, I get the feeling that he’s taking notes, too. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt today with black pants, motorcycle boots and a wide black leather strap around his wrist. There’s an insignia ring on his forefinger and I can’t tell what the engraving is, but my interest is piqued. I find myself staring at his hands, probably too long. They’re masculine and sexy, callused and tanned. They tell me that he is definitely used to manual labor and I like that. I’ve always liked that in a man.

Damn it.

I could point out he asked about Gabby, but I don’t, instead I lean back, rolling my pencil between my fingers as I study him.

“She’s curvy, sweet, funny, and she has the blonde hair and blue eyes that men seem to go gaga over and lose all ability to reason.”

“Not me. I’m not into blondes.”

“Yeah, baby, tell me another one,” I snort.

“I like that,” he says, his voice dropping down to a sweet sound that literally forces me to look into his eyes.

“Like what?” I ask, confused, but intrigued all at the same time.

“You calling me baby.”

“Are you flirting with me?” I ask him, not quite believing it.

“Is that so surprising?”

“I’m not Gabby,” I remind him.

“I’ve had a couple of blondes in my time. Crazy bitches that get all twisted up in emotion. Not really my type.”

“And what is your type…Grunt, right?”

“You remembered. Should I be flattered?” he asks, those lips of his twitching again.

“You can be whatever you want to be. Last I checked it was a free country, Grunt,” I reply with a shrug.

“You can call me, Luke,” he says and suddenly I feel like I’m in dangerous territory.

“Is that like some big honor?” I ask him.

“It’s my name,” he shrugs, studying my face.

“Are you a biker?” I ask, watching him closely.

I see surprise flash in his eyes.

“What makes you ask that?”

“Grew up around them and I’m not stupid,” I respond, waiting.

“Now, that’s something I never thought you were.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur. “Are you going to answer?”

“Are you part of the Devil’s Blaze like your girl?”

“You’ve been doing your homework,” I respond, surprised, but refusing to let it show.

“Partly, but everyone around these parts know who Skull and the Devil’s Blaze are,” he says easily. I wonder what he’d say about my dad’s club, but I don’t go there. I’m not sure what this guy’s agenda is, but something is setting off warning bells. Then, a thought pops into my head.

“You looking to sign up with the Blaze?”

“You think they would have me?” he asks, and his lip twitch deepens into a smile. I get a feeling that’s a rare occurrence.

“No idea. I don’t talk to any of them other than Gabby and her brother. You could always try. You look a little old to be a prospect, though, Luke.”

“Changed my mind,” he mumbles.

“About?”

“I’d rather you call me baby. It makes my dick twitch.”