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The stairs creaking must have given away my approach, because Mason swiveled around on his barstool and spread both his beefy arms out along the bar on either side of his body. Sitting there, wearing his cut, a tight black T-shirt with his biceps bulging, he looked like just another biker. But there was something about his intelligent hazel eyes that caught my attention. His expression was hard to read but I knew that was probably standard operating procedure for him. All the men I knew back home were that way, too proud to show their feelings.
As I walked toward him, I noticed the bulge in the front of his jeans, and by the way he shifted on the stool I walked a bit taller, knowing what that meant. He found me physically attractive. I wasn’t delicate and pretty like my friend Sophia, but I had curves in the right places and took care of myself. When my eyes lifted to his, I saw his chin come up a notch as if he was daring me to comment on his growing interest.
I stopped in front of him and gestured down with my hand. “Do you need to take care of that? If so, I can wait at the bar, maybe have a cocktail.” Putting the emphasis oncockgot a reaction out of him.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Damn, girl, you’re brazen.”
I shrugged and glanced around the room. “Just trying to be accommodating without being, you know, accommodating.”
“You’re casual as fuck about things that make most women blush, especially for a taken woman.”
Damn, I needed to keep my mind on my cover story, and not get derailed by hot bikers with impressive bulges in their pants and a mouth that looked like it knew how to please a woman. After surveying the room for another second, I turned my attention back to my protector. “Sorry, Mason, I guess the whole situation is a bit strange, I need to think before I talk.”
He stood and gazed down at me. “I like how you say whatever’s on your mind, cher. This is going to make dealing with you a whole lot easier.”
I gazed up at him with my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow. “You make me sound like a problem.”
“Oh, you’re a problem alright. A beautiful, strong-willed woman living among men desperate for love and companionship? Trust me, there will be problems. Good thing I’ve been appointed to protect you. I can smack any interest in you right off their faces and send you back to your man once it’s safe for you to return.”
A hint of a frown creased my face, part of me hated that he thought I belonged to anyone. Not, I realized, because I objected to ownership—though that sucked—more that I wanted him to see me as someone he could be interested in and not just as a job. “I get it, hopefully you won’t have to do babysitting duty for long. Can we get some food now? I’m starving.”
He gestured to the back door. “Getting you something to chew on besides my ass sounds like a really good idea about now.”
Outside, he introduced me to a man with the wordProspectin bold letters on his leather vest. “Aprilia, this is Rob. He’s our resident grill master who’s also responsible for managing all of our prospects.”
“Nice to meet you,” I murmured and held out my hand.
Before he could shake my hand, Mason shoved a dinner plate at me and kept right on talking. “Here at the Dark Slayers clubhouse, the prospects protect club property, maintain the clubhouse, see that guests get the things they need, and operate the grill twice a day.”
“Got any vegetables?” I asked, as I eyed up the meat feast.
“Rob, give the woman a potato with her steak,” Mason shouted over, then gave me a look. “Wait, you’re not vegetarian, are you?”
I shook my head, “No, just that the Atkin’s diet is a bit last decade, but maybe you guys didn’t get the memo?”
“Ha ha,” Mason retorted deadpan. “Don’t worry cher, the prospects can get you a tomato or two tomorrow in case you’re worried about scurvy, but tonight we’re eating caveman style.”
“Fine by me, those steaks look awesome.” I said, and it was true. My mouth was watering.
When the other man forked a huge steak onto his plate, Mason’s eyes lit up. “Rob and his team grill the juiciest steaks in the tri-county area.”
Rob took my protector’s over-the-top introduction in stride. “Thanks for the kind words, Mason.” He slid a steak onto my plate, wiped his hand on a clean cloth and extended his hand again. “Welcome to the Slayers clubhouse, Ms. Aprilia. Be sure to let us know if you need anything.”
When we shook hands, Mason playfully smacked his hand away. “No touching. Friendly waves only.”
Rob’s mouth fell open. “For real?”
Mason shook his head and grinned. “Just yanking your chain.”
“Strange how you’ve never had a sense of humor before now,” the other man replied with a wry smile.
“Yeah, about that. It’s less to do with having a pretty lady at my side and more to do with surviving a shoot-out with those mobster assholes from the city.” Mason’s mood had soured somewhat at the reminder of recent violence with Don Diavonte’s men, violence no one had bothered to mention to me. Which, considering who my father had been aligned to, and who my fake fiancé worked for was a pretty big omission.
Rob added a baked potato to Mason’s plate. “Well, I have just the thing to put you back in a good mood.”
Mason’s expression turned hopeful. “You found it?”
Rob reached beneath the grill. “Yeah, I ordered the hot sauce you talked about the other day, and it just came in today.”
