I still kind of hated him for being so damn hot.
Especially since he’d decided to let himself all hang out while at the Expo. Unlike his daily attire back in Austin that mainly consisted of t-shirts, jeans, and the occasional gingham print shirt, Dex had shed his normal attire for a black undershirt. A sleeveless black tank that let me see every inch of those cut arms beneath layers of thick ink, and a better view of the red tattoo that went from his back over his shoulder and neck to his chest.
Damn him.
Damn him to hell.
Dex looked at me for a second longer before straightening up and saying, "I’m gonna get goin’ for a while. If someone comes lookin’ for me, call.”
I nodded, knowing that I didn’t have his number but assuming that Slim did.
He paused for a minute, straightening up to his full height before leaning back down and over me. The hot heat of his skin radiated onto mine so intently the warmth of his skin seeped into my muscles. "Son would skin my balls if I let somebody take advantage of his pretty baby sister."
Oh my mother heifer.
As if that wasn't enough, I swear to Mary and Joseph I felt his bottom lip press to the skin over my right temple. "I like it when you're all cute and playful," he added.
And, it was a miracle I didn't croak when he stepped away. What in the hell was that?
When I glanced over in Shane’s direction, he was watching me curiously before taking off with Dex.
Well. That was awkward. And, and, and... holy crap. What was that about cute and playful? It made it sound like he thought of me as a puppy or something. I had to shut down my brain and push what he said out of my head.
Dex is a dick. Dex is a dick. Dex is a dick.
Gah!
I shut the thought in the back of my mind indefinitely.
Debating whether to keep watch at the table or keep my eye on Slim’s masterpiece—for the record, it seemed that everything Slim did was a masterpiece of fine lines, delicacy, and color. All the guys at Pins were really good, some better at certain things than others, but I’d always thought that Slim was the most talented. Maybe tied with Dex when he actually worked but usually he won.
After deliberating my options for a split second, I rolled my chair over to watch him tattoo the guy he had hunched over, working on an old pirate ship right smack on the middle of the man’s brawny shoulder.
I didn’t say a word as I watched him, not wanting to distract him from the man who had been all too excited to request Slim’s work an hour before.
But my friend Slim had other thoughts. His green eyes flashed up at me. “What was that about?”
"Huh?" I played stupid.
Slim pulled the gun off the customer’s skin, dabbing at the beaded blood before continuing with a shake of his head. "Since when are you guys BFFs?"
I’d learned over the last month how chatty all the guys were, well, specifically Slim and Blake. If I answered his question just remotely weird, I’d bet my first born Slim would jump to some kind of crazy conclusion that I wanted no part of. So I went with the truth. “I heard him fart last night. It kind of broke the ice.”
The little whistle he let out told me that was good enough. He snorted and raised an eyebrow before getting back to work. “That’ll do it.”
Chapter Thirteen
I was swooning. Unfortunately it wasn’t because someone had said something sweet—no one had—but because I was bone tired. After the four hours of sleep we’d gotten after the drive, then all of the running around to set up the booth, and finally the nine hours we had to work the Expo, I was crabby and swooning.
And these guys had dragged me to a bar with Dex’s friends.
Apparently no one cared that I was really tired and that I didn’t drink. They especially didn’t care that all I wanted to do was veg out on the bed in the hotel room with a meal that was more than the nachos and stale fries I had to down at the Expo. If I never saw another plate of nachos or another paper plate with over salted fries on it again, it'd be a day too soon.
“We’ll only stay for a little bit,” Slim had sworn.
That had been two hours ago. Two hours was not what I considered a little bit. Two hours was the length of a movie. A movie I could gladly be watching in our hotel room beneath the covers of the pull-out. But more than likely I’d probably be asleep the second my head hit the pillows.
“Are you okay?” Shane asked from his spot on the stool next to mine.
I shook my head, giving him a drowsy shrug afterward. “I’m exhausted.”
“I was planning on leaving in a minute. Want to catch a cab back to the hotel?” he asked.
Hmm.
I was really tired…
Not tired enough to be stupid and irresponsible though. “I’ll just wait for Slim or Dex.” Or leave by myself. That was an option I’d willingly pay extra money for to be safe and not take a chance with a stranger.
Dex had disappeared a few minutes ago, leaving the table we’d taken up in a corner. Slim was over at the other side of the bar speaking to people that he knew. It was only my antisocial ass that was still sitting in the same spot we’d been in for two hours while my two coworkers were social butterflies. The bar wasn't exactly some upscale downtown hot spot. Saying it was seedy would be an exaggeration but it wasn't somewhere I'd go by myself. So I used that as an excuse to stay where I was.
Shane shrugged, and it was at that very moment that Dex reappeared, taking his seat on the other side.
As if he could read my mind, he leaned over and sighed. “I’m too old for this shit. You ready to go?”
Hallelujah!
I nodded so quickly and grinned so widely, I knew it was the reason why Dex smiled then. “Be right back.”
He got up again and made his way over to Slim who stayed where he was. Dex said something to him before bulldozing his way back where Shane and I were. Only he'd barely covered half the distance when a man standing in his way turned around too quickly and bumped into his chest.
Spilling a small glass of alcohol all over Dex's signature black v-neck.
Obviously I couldn't hear what Dex said to the guy but from the angry lines across his forehead, it wasn't nice. The man who had spilled the drink, only a couple inches shorter than my boss but easily twenty or thirty pounds heavier in the gut, lifted up a finger and pressed the tip of it into Dex's chest.
Even I knew that was the absolute stupidest thing he could have done.
"Shit," I heard Shane mutter as his friend—my boss—lifted both hands up to shove the drunk guy back into a table. "C'mon, let's go get him. He can't get arrested again."
Oh crap.
Shane passed right by me, ticking his head over in the direction Dex was. Climbing over the chair, I followed after him, trying to peep around his figure to see what the hell Dex was doing by that point. From the stable conversations and tones around me, no one had gotten punched. Yet.
"Dex!" Shane yelled futilely. The bar was too loud to hear anything more than a foot in distance away.
I twisted around his frame to see that Dex was fisting the drunk guy's shirt, shaking him pretty violently. All over a spilled drink? Jee-zus.
Shane cut the distance between them. "Dex! Let's go!"
I happened to turn and look over my shoulder at that moment to see the big bouncers at the door fighting their way toward the small—and stupid—spectacle.
"Dex!" Shane yelled again.
This idiot was going to get arrested, and then how would Slim and I get home? Annoyed, I made my way around Shane to reach out and grab Dex's thick forearm. "The bouncers are coming." I shook his arm.