to bat an eye, especially not Diego. She
supposed it was old school for him. He’d doubtless been in the middle of a
group like that many times in his past.
A stab of jealousy overrode her pleasure and spoiled the
sense of freedom she’d been riding. She tore off a piece of cake, chased it
with another swallow of the drink. The conglomerate of liquors worked, calming
her nerves with each sip and gulp.
A burly, tattooed man sat down opposite Diego. He wore a red
hanky do-rag over gold-blonde hair secured in a low ponytail at the back of his
neck like Diego’s. He sported several piercings on his lip and eyebrows.
Handsome in a bad-boy, biker kind of way, she decided.
His gray eyes swept Britt with a look of respectful
appreciation. “Hey there. Name’s Glen. This is mine and my wife’s place, the
house with the wild pool party too, but I don’t take responsibility for
anything any of these crazy bastards and chicks do—unless it turns out to be
something good, which is hard to come by.” He held his hand across the table
and she placed hers in his bear paw. It was warm and soft. Welcoming.
Britt laughed at his dry humor. “Nice to meet you, Glen. I’m
Britt. You have a great place here—including the ‘wild pool’—and the charity
function is an admirable thing.”
“Thanks, doll. Now I have a question. What the hell’s a
classy chick like you doing with a punk like this Scoundrel dude?”
Britt couldn’t help but giggle again. “Scoundrel?” That was
the second time she’d heard him called that and she’d just realized it was
being used as a proper name, not in general.
Diego shrugged. “Eh, just my idiot friends trying to be
funny.”
“Hell with that.” Glen snorted. “You earned that name
big-ass time. Always breaking the ladies’ hearts.”
She eyed Diego over the rim of her cup. “Really? Well I
think that’s kind of obvious just looking at him.”
“Oooh. Uh-oh, look out, she’s hot on ya, man.” Glen’s
eyebrows arched, but he didn’t say anything more.
Diego didn’t miss a beat of his friend’s humor, and he
didn’t seem to be threatened by Glen’s reference to Diego’s player image
either. He took a long gulp of his ice water then shook the cup at Glen. Ice
rattled. “On the other hand, Glen here’s the top-dog asshole. He’s not as mean
as he looks, though.”
Glen shrugged his strapping shoulders and examined the label
on his bottle of beer. He wore a black leather vest with no shirt beneath it.
His hairy chest revealed more tattoos. “Fuck you, man. I’ll show you mean.”
The two laughed and bumped fists across the table.
“Hey. Couldn’t help overhearing…” Glen downed half the beer,
belched. “This here bastard, there is one thing that’ll piss him off.”
Britt gave Diego a sidelong look. His eyes grew stormy and
he shot Glen a glare that could kill, one that said, “Shut the hell up, or
else.” Diego took a mouthful of ice, chomped and shifted his boots beneath the
table.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Britt asked.
Off in the distance, a hard-rock song started, the lyrics
chanting something like, “You’re mine, babe, you’re mine. Watch out, I know the
sign.”
“Shut up, Glennon. It’s none of your damn business,” Diego
grumbled.
Glen raked Britt up and down with a look of male
appreciation. “A sophisticated broad like this, I think she needs to know that
in spite of all the kinky shit she’s seeing out here, you don’t share your
women. Well, at least not with men. Now with women…” His gaze danced to the
topless biker chicks. “That’s another story. Not in his bed, mind you.
Just gets off on watchin’ his babe play and tease him. Oh no, won’t welcome
anyone else in his bed. It’s just a twofer. Damn him,” he grumbled.
“A twofer? Sounds juvenile. Now goddamn you, you prick,”
Diego muttered, “it’s our first date. She doesn’t need to hear that crap.”
An idea started forming in Britt’s head, granted it
supposed it was old school for him. He’d doubtless been in the middle of a
group like that many times in his past.
A stab of jealousy overrode her pleasure and spoiled the
sense of freedom she’d been riding. She tore off a piece of cake, chased it
with another swallow of the drink. The conglomerate of liquors worked, calming
her nerves with each sip and gulp.
A burly, tattooed man sat down opposite Diego. He wore a red
hanky do-rag over gold-blonde hair secured in a low ponytail at the back of his
neck like Diego’s. He sported several piercings on his lip and eyebrows.
Handsome in a bad-boy, biker kind of way, she decided.
His gray eyes swept Britt with a look of respectful
appreciation. “Hey there. Name’s Glen. This is mine and my wife’s place, the
house with the wild pool party too, but I don’t take responsibility for
anything any of these crazy bastards and chicks do—unless it turns out to be
something good, which is hard to come by.” He held his hand across the table
and she placed hers in his bear paw. It was warm and soft. Welcoming.
Britt laughed at his dry humor. “Nice to meet you, Glen. I’m
Britt. You have a great place here—including the ‘wild pool’—and the charity
function is an admirable thing.”
“Thanks, doll. Now I have a question. What the hell’s a
classy chick like you doing with a punk like this Scoundrel dude?”
Britt couldn’t help but giggle again. “Scoundrel?” That was
the second time she’d heard him called that and she’d just realized it was
being used as a proper name, not in general.
Diego shrugged. “Eh, just my idiot friends trying to be
funny.”
“Hell with that.” Glen snorted. “You earned that name
big-ass time. Always breaking the ladies’ hearts.”
She eyed Diego over the rim of her cup. “Really? Well I
think that’s kind of obvious just looking at him.”
“Oooh. Uh-oh, look out, she’s hot on ya, man.” Glen’s
eyebrows arched, but he didn’t say anything more.
Diego didn’t miss a beat of his friend’s humor, and he
didn’t seem to be threatened by Glen’s reference to Diego’s player image
either. He took a long gulp of his ice water then shook the cup at Glen. Ice
rattled. “On the other hand, Glen here’s the top-dog asshole. He’s not as mean
as he looks, though.”
Glen shrugged his strapping shoulders and examined the label
on his bottle of beer. He wore a black leather vest with no shirt beneath it.
His hairy chest revealed more tattoos. “Fuck you, man. I’ll show you mean.”
The two laughed and bumped fists across the table.
“Hey. Couldn’t help overhearing…” Glen downed half the beer,
belched. “This here bastard, there is one thing that’ll piss him off.”
Britt gave Diego a sidelong look. His eyes grew stormy and
he shot Glen a glare that could kill, one that said, “Shut the hell up, or
else.” Diego took a mouthful of ice, chomped and shifted his boots beneath the
table.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Britt asked.
Off in the distance, a hard-rock song started, the lyrics
chanting something like, “You’re mine, babe, you’re mine. Watch out, I know the
sign.”
“Shut up, Glennon. It’s none of your damn business,” Diego
grumbled.
Glen raked Britt up and down with a look of male
appreciation. “A sophisticated broad like this, I think she needs to know that
in spite of all the kinky shit she’s seeing out here, you don’t share your
women. Well, at least not with men. Now with women…” His gaze danced to the
topless biker chicks. “That’s another story. Not in his bed, mind you.
Just gets off on watchin’ his babe play and tease him. Oh no, won’t welcome
anyone else in his bed. It’s just a twofer. Damn him,” he grumbled.
“A twofer? Sounds juvenile. Now goddamn you, you prick,”
Diego muttered, “it’s our first date. She doesn’t need to hear that crap.”
An idea started forming in Britt’s head, granted it
Similar Books
