I snag the plate, return to the donut display, and grab a massive jelly-filled donut.
When the plate hits the counter, he pounds his fist against it. “Do I need to show you what an old-fashioned donut looks like, you moron?”
With a raised brow, I say, “I think you might. Which one is it? Can you point to it?”
His arm juts out, hand shaking with fury as he points. “That one.”
I go to the display and point at a chocolate donut. “This?”
“No,thatone!”
I point to a coconut donut. “This?”
“That. One,” he spits out, veins protruding from his neck as rage consumes him.
The ridiculousness of our standoff over a donut isn’t lost on me.I’m having way too much fun.
My finger goes to a cinnamon apple donut. “Th—“
“Fuck! Do I need to come back there and wring yourneck?”
A rush ripples through me, and the magnetic pull takes over. My feet slowly pad the floor, inching closer to him. I lean over the bar, my face right in front of his, look him dead in the eyes, and whisper, “Is that a threat or a promise?”
We’re completely still, eyes locked, and the world around us vanishes as his dark brown eyes trail to my lips.
The flush of frustration vanishes from his face, and what emerges is a sinister grin that makes me weak in the knees. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispers back. “Fucked up little rich boy just wants Daddy to put you over his knee and give you some attention, huh?”
“Do you wanna be my daddy?”
Torren leans closer, our faces merely inches apart, and grips the edge of the counter. The whites of his knuckles are visible, and his hands shake. “You don’t want me to be your daddy. I don’t play nice.”
“Try me,” I whisper.
His breathing accelerates. The pupils in his eyes are so dilated that they look black. “You little fuckin’ brat,” he says. He looks manic. I can see him doing everything he can to keep his hands under control.
But I want his hands on me.
I inch the tiniest bit closer, my eyes trailing down to his lips. A bead of spit catches the light from above, and I’d do anything to lick it off. “Do it,” I rasp out.
His hand approaches my neck, closing in on its target, but I don’t move. I want it. Need it. But Gabe clears his throat, snapping both of us out of our sexual tension.
Torren snaps his hands away with speed, like he touched something hot, and steps back from the counter. His eyes are wide and locked on me. The hand that almost touched metrembles at his side before he stuffs it in his pocket.
“Gabe, get this, will ya?” he asks as he backs away, never taking his eyes off me. “I’ll pay you back at the shop.”
Torren exits the restaurant, and I stand there, watching as he leaves.
Gabe slides a few dollar bills toward me, then quickly follows him out.
I’m still at the counter, wishing I could run after him, when Gilda approaches. “You really think you should be talking to Torren Kay like that?”
The way she says it gives me pause. “Why? Who is he?”
“You’ve never heard of the Kay brothers?” she asks, aghast.
Embarrassed, I shake my head. It’s clear that the Kay brothers mean something in the Patch, and I feel stupid for not knowing. “Tobias Kay is the leader of the Hellcats,” she adds, “and his brother, Torren,” she motions to him, “used to lead it with him before he moved into the car repair shop he owns now.”
“What are the Hellcats?” I ask.
