Taking a deep breath, I channeled my inner attitude and looked him straight in the eye while trying to remain pleasant. “Yeah, I’m all good. Thanks,” I’d told him, smiling as I said it to not appear like a complete bitch while desperately trying to dismiss him at the same time.
“You sure, angel?” he questioned, his cocky smirk pulling up at one side, flashing those perfect teeth, and making my stomach clench with need. I mean, angel? From any other man that would sound creepy as hell, but coming from him, it sounded dominating. Intriguing. It sounded like a damn promise to rock my world and leave me begging for more.
It sounded fucking dangerous.
Reality check; fuck men. I’d risked it all before and there’s no way I’m about to fall into that trap again.
Stepping back from him, I was about to dismiss him as the sound of a pager cut me off. I wanted to look around, searching out the old man that was bound to be around here somewhere and had to choke back a laugh when I realized the pager was his.
I mean, who carries pagers around these days?
As he was preoccupied with whatever was on his pager, I gave myself a chance to appreciate the view which presented itself before me. And damn straight, I gave him my complete undivided attention because that’s what a chiseled body like this deserves.
He truly is a masterpiece and should be appreciated by all womankind. My gaze traveled over him from top to bottom because let’s face it, this little encounter was about to expire and it was only a matter of time before he hit the road to do whatever or whoever.
It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s exactly what his plan was. A man that looks like that, hard in all the right places, and most likely hiding a ten pack of abs under that tight shirt with zero percent body fat probably has a paging system for all his groupies. One for each night.
Realizing I was probably right about his harem of women, an anger that I wasn’t entitled to shook me right to the core. Why should I have cared if he was being summoned away for a Saturday morning booty call?
Guy’s like that aren’t interested in sticking around to handle my kind of baggage. Besides, I’m done with douchebags and this guy had a neon sign pointing at his gorgeous, sharp face flashing ‘hit it, and quit it.’ I needed to get the fuck out of there before I threw myself at him.
His grey, stormy eyes looked back at me and my resolve nearly broke. He hesitated a moment, running his hand through his hair before glancing back at his pager, clearly torn with what to do.
Frustration rolled off him in waves. Whatever was on that pager was not sitting well with him. Maybe something was wrong, or maybe the booty call was canceling. Why did that thought liven me the hell up? This guy is a player. I mean, who the hell tries to pick up girls in hardware stores?
“Fuck me,” he murmured under his breath. “This better be fucking important.” When his attention was brought back to me, it was like having the breath knocked out of my chest and a hollowness set in. I quickly realized that our time together was going to be over soon, despite the fact that I’d been shutting him out the whole time.
What was I even worried about anyway? I had more important things to do with my day rather than stand there with him trying to get his dick wet. I have a house to clean, two rooms to paint, a hinge to fix, and after all that, a bottle of wine to annihilate. Those grey stormies were not getting the better of me.
A smirk lifted the corner of his lips before he winked. “Gotta go,” he said before replacing the roller in my hand with something else, something I didn’t even take a second to look at. I was too enchanted by his eyes. “You can thank me later.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me staring after him, wondering what the hell had just happened.
I snap back to reality. This is ridiculous. That must have been the millionth time I’ve replayed that scene in my head. Hell, soon enough I’ll start writing out a script and hiring actors so I can watch it in real-time, but nothing could do it justice. There’s no recreating the emotion and depth within this man’s eyes. I don’t know how but I can tell that he’s seen some shit in his life, some real, raw, and devastating shit. Something that other people just don’t see.
This man, my God. I shake my head trying to knock some sense into my obviously hormonal brain. That’s got to be it, that’s the only logical reason for these crazy feelings coursing through my body.