Well, at least one person was with me. Mason was a Kessler, though. They had some class. My gaze once again landed on Riley. Well, I thought they did until Micha Kessler chose her. I’d admit Riley had this whole exotic look going on with her black hair and pale complexion, but come on. She grew up on the docks, had probably five cents to her name, and an alcoholic mother. What could he possibly see in her?
My thoughts were interrupted when a man walked out from the back and locked a death glare on Logan.
“Did he do this to you?” He asked Riley.
What he meant by do this, I had no idea. Though based on the way he was glaring at Logan, I could make a guess. This wasn’t the first time I saw some guy give Logan that look–he had a bit of a reputation with the ladies–this guy though … I paused and eyed the newcomer, who was now talking to my escort about tattoos. He was kind of scruffy. With ripped jeans, a five o’clock shadow, and a faded blue t-shirt over his obviously toned torso, but there was something about him. An undeniably attractive aura. Logan had the same natural charm. His wasn’t as mature as the other man’s. I suppose that came with age? This guy didn’t look that much older, though. Four, maybe five years?
“Come on,” Scruffy guy tipped his head towards the back. “I’ll show you some of my work.”
I’m sure this place was glad to have people like us in their establishment, but this guy was jumping the gun a bit. There was no way Logan…
“Alright,” Logan nodded and followed him.
What?
“Hey?” I yelled, waving my hand at the two sitting behind the counter. “You can’t leave me here with them.”
Mason I could handle, if I had to. He was Kessler after all. But Riley…
“Oh, come on, Barbie.” Riley’s lips twisted in a sarcastic smile, “I don’t know about you, but I’m excited to spend some quality time together.”
I rolled my eyes. I was going to kill Logan.
“What should we do first, braid each other's hair? Paint our nails, or should we get right down to the girly talk? You can tell me about your boyfriend…” her nose scrunched up in a grimace. “Oh, sorry. I meant boyfriends.”
Did she really think that was going to hurt my feeling? Try again, honey. “At least I know how to satisfy my men.”
“Do you, though?” She tsked. “It seems to me, if you knew how to satisfy a man, you wouldn’t bounce around so many of them.”
Shows how much the sheriff’s daughter knew. I’d been with a total of four men. All of whom had standing in this town, including her supposed boyfriend. Still don’t know why Micha decided to slum it? Riley Adams was trash just like her mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day she killed herself in a drunk-infused drive either.
I opened my mouth, prepared to put her in her place, but paused when a new person walked around the back corner.
“Riley, have you seen the–” He stopped dead in his tracks, dark eyes locking on mine and for half a second, I felt my breath hitch.
He was huge. Big bulging muscles that dwarfed Mason Kessler, who liked to pick fights for fun. My gaze traveled across the colorful ink etched in the tanned skin of his forearm, up his broad shoulders, across his square jaw dusted with a light coating of dark hair and up to the tussled brown locks on the top of his head. I was tall, six feet in heels, and I still had to lift my chin to meet his gaze.
“Hello,” Riley snapped her fingers, yet I couldn’t force myself to look away. “Earth to Chase.”
“Oh,” he cleared his throat and said, “have you seen my coils?”
Riley threw her thumb over her shoulder. “They’re in the back.”
He didn’t move. Just stood there staring at me. I could feel his eyes roaming over me as vividly as if he was touching me. Around my hips and up to the plunging neckline of my red Valentina dress. It was so intense. I actually had to supress a shiver. Why was he still staring at me? Why was I still staring at him?
Come on Naomi. You’re not your mother. You don’t slum it.
I sneered at his faded jeans and black shirt. “Can I help you?”
“Sorry,” Chase shook his head. “Don’t get many girl’s like you in here.”
I bet.
“That’s because it stinks of sweat,” I shrugged, shaking away the images forming in the back of my head. “I feel dirty just being in here.”
His brow lifted. “Not much for manners, are you?”
“Not when it comes to docksider trash.” And that’s exactly what he was. A magnificently built and chiselled piece of docksider trash.
