Even as the words left his mouth, a sliver of awareness slid in.He sounded like an ass and he knew it.However, pride and adrenaline made a stubborn combination, and he wasn’t about to back down now.
She crossed her arms slowly, deliberately, like she had all the time in the world.She dragged her gaze over him, taking in all of him, and he felt strangely exposed.Just who was this woman?Never before had Havoc seen her.
“Funny,” she said coolly.“I was already standing here when you came tearing around the corner like you owned the place.”
Something in her tone hooked him deep and sudden.
Most people, especially women, went small around him.They apologized even when they weren’t at fault.They averted their eyes.Some even tried to smooth things over fast.This woman didn’t do any of that.She stood there like a steel post sunk into the ground, hard and unyielding.
It intrigued him.Heck, it pissed him off and pulled at him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long damn time.
Havoc took a step closer before he realized he was doing it.She didn’t retreat or flinch, didn’t even shift her weight.She just lifted her chin and met his stare head on, eyes steady, unblinking.
Up close, he noticed things he hadn’t from the bike.Paint smudges on her cheek, like she’d forgotten to wipe her face.A faint scrape on one knuckle, already healing.Her eyes were the color of storm clouds holding light, bright and restless beneath the gray.
There was warmth to her, something alive and grounded that hit him low in the gut, sharp and unexpected.The reaction made Havoc grind his teeth.It pissed him off for reasons he didn’t want to examine.He really didn’t understand his strange reaction to someone he just met.
“You could’ve died,” he said, jaw tight, the words coming out rougher than he meant them to.
“And you could’ve slowed down,” she shot back without missing a beat.“Guess we both made choices.”
That earned her a humorless huff from him.“You got a death wish, sweetheart?”Havoc couldn’t help but ask.
Her mouth curved, slow and dangerous, the kind of smile that promised trouble.“No.I’ve just learned not to flinch when men get loud,” she said evenly.Then her eyes hardened just a fraction.“And don’t call me sweetheart.”
That stopped him cold.
The words hit somewhere under his ribs, not soft enough to be guilt, not sharp enough to be anger.Recognition, maybe, like she’d named something he knew too well.
He exhaled through his nose and dragged a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding off in a long breath.
“You new here?”Havoc asked.He was now curious about her and that was something.Havoc hadn’t been interested in anything for a long time.
“Is it that obvious?”she said, one brow lifting.
“Yeah,” he replied.“Locals don’t stand in the street when they hear a bike coming.”
“I wasn’t standing in the street,” she countered calmly.“I was stepping back to look at a wall.”
“A wall,” he repeated flatly, skeptical.
She turned and pointed behind her.The mural hit him harder than her attitude ever could have.
The auto shop wall was alive with lines and motion, charcoal and paint already coaxed into something raw and powerful.A half-formed motorcycle stretched across brick, angled like it was mid ride, all tension and intent.It wasn’t finished, but it didn’t need to be to make its point.
Havoc didn’t know the first thing about art but even he could tell that thing breathed.The rider looked like he might peel himself off the wall and roar straight into the road.Havoc stared, caught off guard.
It was good and honest in a way most art wasn’t.
“That yours?”he asked, his voice quieter now, some of the edge shaved off.
She nodded.“Still working on it.”
Something loosened inside him, just a notch.Enough to notice that the knot in his chest wasn’t as tight.
“My name’s Ivy,” she said then, offering it like a challenge, not an invitation.
“Havoc,” he replied automatically, the name leaving his mouth before he could think better of it.
