Fuck. Cue my insides melting. “You were looking at the knives. I know you wouldn’t stab anyone, but you really looked like you might stab him.”
He laughs his whiskey-chuckle laugh. “It’s cute you think I wouldn’t stab anyone, because I would, especially on your account, pretty boy.”
I swallow. “Um, how about coffee before stabbing?”
“Good idea. Go make me some. I’ll be in the walk-in fridge getting bluer balls.” He winks and pulls away.
Okay, I …
Well, fuck I’m …
My brain can’t compute what just happened. Even though I didn’t get the sex I wanted, the way he is turns out to be everything I didn’t know I wanted. I’ve always felt Trav was the one for me, but now I’m coming to learn why.
He’s protective, kinda terrifying, demanding, and domineering. He knows how to steal my breath, literally and figuratively.
He’ll also stab someone if they ask for your number.
Ugh, I should not find that hot, but I do. Right. My man is an ex-biker gang member. It’s easy to forget that with the fatherly exterior he’s cultivated for Dash, wrapped around him so tightly.
Trav’s off to the walk-in fridges, leaving me on coffee duty, but that’s not all he left me. Dash’s hat’s on the counter.
Take the hat off, pretty boy. Your ass belongs to me, understand?
Maybe I should take some cues from my friends. I’m starting to get it now, because picturing Trav wearing anything of anyone else’s makes me want to throw up.
Chapter
Eight
Trav
Am I trying to edge the fuck out of him? Yes. I have a sadistic streak that’s not going away any time soon, he might as well figure that out now. But the orgasm I give him will be worth it. He’s been tetchy ever since he had breakfast with his brother yesterday morning, and I’ve considered moving up the “fuck his ass” date, which is an arbitrary date I’ve made in my mind.
“I’m a grown fucking adult, Trav,” he’d said. He stormed into the restaurant that afternoon after their breakfast, ready to break glass.
“Tell me,” I’d demanded.
“He doesn’t just suspect something, he fucking knows, even though he won’t admit it. Pretty sure the only reason he hasn’t come down here to threaten you in person is because he knows you’re you, that you’re not a bad guy. Though he’s seriously questioning that at the moment.”
I’d be offended if I weren’t a dad. I get Hunter’s concerns, and I don’t blame him one bit. We’ve hung out in various waysover the years—family cookouts, Wicklow parties—and we’ve even helped our sons move in together. We’ve been friendly, but a friendship bond didn’t catch between us. We’re too similar. Both closed off and more than a little jaded.
Not me as much anymore, but I was exactly where he is when I was Hunter’s age.
“And?” I knew there was more.
“He had the audacity to demand that if there is something between us, I end it.”
They’re close. More than close. I still haven’t heard every detail, but I know enough to know they were all each other had growing up. Hunter saved Dirk from his personal hell, and Dirk knows it. Hunter is more than just Dirk’s brother and parent; he’s Dirk’s hero.
Dirk’s lip trembled, his eyes welling with tears. “Why doesn’t he trust me, Trav?”
Right or wrong, I pulled him into my arms. We weren’t hidden very well near the bar as we were. It’s as if we want to be caught with how fucking not sly we are about hiding shit. Though, we were kinda already caught.
“I don’t think this is a thing that goes over very well. Period. We’ve gotta take it in strides. Give him time.”
“You’re picturing what you’d say to Dash if he came home with someone your age, aren’t you?”
“I keep telling you, you’re the exception, not the rule. Have we already forgotten what I did to the bartender that I caught Dash kissing outside my office when I felt he was nowhere near ready for doing shit like that?”
