Why didn’t I tell him to fuck off? Declan King is the epitome of every woman’s dream man—tall, with muscles straining against the fabric of his black T-shirt. His brown hair curls around the back of his ears, the front styled just messy enough to look intentional. And those green eyes… they could make a woman ruin her life in an instant. Add the sharp lines of his nose, those kissable lips, and the angular, bearded jaw has danger written all over them.
It’s odd. This is the first time I feel safe in a week. That’s how long I’d been running, and my dwindling funds can’t support me much longer. It’s too risky to access my bank account; any transaction would surely alert those who are after me.
Declan shouldn’t get involved with me, though. I’m dangerous. Or rather, danger is following me.
Declan places a vodka soda in front of me. “I really shouldn’t drink. I need to stay alert.”
“You’re safe here, Meridea,” Declan says confidently.
A sense of warmth washes over me; it’s been a while since I’ve felt truly safe.
I sip the drink. “I shouldn’t go to your house.” I lean in. “I’m being followed.”
He plants his palms on the bar and inches closer, smirking. “Is that so?”
My brows bunch together. “Yes,” I say sternly.
“Let them follow us to my home. I have the perfect gift for them. Your food will be out soon.”
Great, he must be some kind of violent lunatic. But then again, maybe he can give my pursuers a taste of their own medicine. Although, deep down, I know it’s still two against five.
I rub my forehead, trying to stave off a headache, when a blonde waitress arrives with my meal. She’s wearing a red tank top, tight jeans, and a tiny black apron.
“Here you go, sugar,” she says with a smile, setting the plate down.
“Thank you,” I reply, trying to ignore the way her eyes assess me from head to toe.
“Declan asked me to pick up some clothes for you,” she adds, smirking. “Okay… style: nonexistent.” She chuckles at her own joke.
I shrug, knowing that if I weren’t on the run, my appearance would be much more put-together.
“Sorry, I’m not here for a fashion show in this cute little small town. You know what? You don’t have to do me any favors.”
“Have you checked in at the hotel?” she asks, her big blue eyes locking with mine.
I glare at her. “Tell Declan thanks, but I’m leaving.” I stand abruptly.
She throws her hands up in mock surrender. “Whoa, sit down. I don’t want to deal withhismouth.”
I hesitate, then sigh. “Look, if you think I’m competing for Declan, I’m not. You don’t have to worry. I don’t want him. I’ve got enough shit going on in my life.”
I turn to leave and come face to face with a muscled chest. “Where are you going?” he growls.
I visibly swallow because for some reason he makes me nervous. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
He places his left hand on the bar and the other on the back of the red stool. “Sit down.”
I crane my neck to glare up at him. Damn, how tall is this guy? Six-four? At five-eight, he seems to tower over me.
“No, I’ve been getting dirty looks from the women sitting at the bar. Now the blonde is asking a shit ton of questions. Let me leave, Declan.”
“Fuck, no,” he grits out.
And that forces my pussy to clench. I don’t like the effect this handsome bartender has on me.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Declan, I told you, I’m trouble,” I whisper, so only he can hear my words.
“Lucky for you, I love trouble. Now sit that pretty little ass back in the seat,” he orders.
