“Hey!” I wave to get his attention. The little boy’s deep brown eyes shift to me. “If you don't want to go home with me, you'd better get off the floor. I’ll toss you right in my truck.”
His eyes widen before he scrambles up and races to his mom. She picks him up, and he tucks his head into her neck tightly.
“Thank you,” she smiles.
“It’s no trouble,” I say as we walk over to the register. Rowan helps her ring her items up before we send them on their way.
“You have a good heart,” he comments softly as we watch her load her kids into her car.
“Yeah, yeah,” I smile absently. “Don’t expect it too often. I’m going to the bathroom before you blow your top.”
He shakes his head, but I see the corners of his mouth lift as he waits for me. I still fully plan to enact my revenge on him, but moments like this make it really hard to hate him.
I stop in the entrance of the bathroom, blinking as I’m struck by the realization that I don't actuallyhateRowan. His company is nice when he isn't being an asshole. I still don't forgive him for the blow job thing, but I could have said no at any point, and he would have stopped.
Idecided to keep going…
“Excuse me?” A voice calls from behind me. I startle before moving out of a lady’s way.
“Fuck,” I curse before using the restroom and washing my hands. My mind reels, and I splash water on my face to banish the thoughts before I face him again. “Just have to getthrough this trip.” I try to reason with myself as I dry my hands.
I take a deep breath, my plan circling again as I walk back out into the main area of the gas station. Rowan is across from me, observing a row of tacky-looking shot glasses before he notices me.
“Get what you need so we can leave,” he says pointedly. He’s back to business as he towers over me with that stoic expression he wears like a mask.
He’s making my plan really easy.
I shrug. “Okay.”
I walk down an aisle with t-shirts first, the weight of Rowan’s stare on my back as I peruse the merchandise. When I get to the shirt I spotted on my way to the bathroom, I stop and shuffle through the sizes.
“What are you?” I ask. “A size double-extra-large?”
He runs a hand over his mouth, looking annoyed. “I don't need a shirt, Addison.”
I only stare at him, scrutinizing his size before nodding. “Double-extra-large it is.” I grab the shirt, unfold it, and hold it up to him, grinning triumphantly.
It has the ridiculous cartoon rooster on it with the phrase, ‘I stroked the cock at Cluckers,’ in massive block letters below.
He crosses his arms, pinning me with a hard stare. “I’m not wearing that.”
My brows lift as I rock back on my heels. “Okay, then. It would be a shame if I found the nearest trusted adult and told them a tall man with tattoos touched me inappropriately in the parking lot.”
Rowan’s teeth grind. “You wouldn'tdare.”
“Oh, I would.” I wink. “Put the cock shirt on or take a trip to the nearest police precinct. The choice is yours.”
He looks away, sighing, before he grabs the bottom of his shirt and lifts it over his head. My eyes widen as my mouth goes dry. Miles of inked skin come into view as toned musclesstretch with his movements. Rowan isn't that zero body fat kind of fit. His shoulders are wide and thick with the kind of muscle that's earned from years of hard work and dedication. His forearms are solid, the veins running beneath his skin prominent and raised. He looks dense as hell, and like he holds the strength to carry rather than just lift.
It’s only heightened with the swirling artwork that stretches across his pectorals and stomach. There’s a dark snake that wraps around his neck, black ravens that stretch their wings over his left pectoral, and detailed roses over the right. The softness of the flowers complements the sharp darkness of everything else tattooed over his skin. It’sbeautiful.
“See something you like?” He muses cockily before grabbing the shirt from me. He pulls it over his head, and I can finally collect my thoughts.
“You wish,” I turn away from him before walking to another aisle.
“It’s alright to admit you find me attractive, Sunshine. I won’t hold it against you.” He smarts from behind me as I grab whatever I can hold. There are a few bags of chips, some sour candy, and chocolate in my arms as I walk toward a display with sunglasses on it.
I try on a pair of bulky tortoiseshell ones, then shrug and add them to my pile. “I would rather eat sandpaper.”
