I pull my eyes away from the man I haven’t been staring at for the last thirty minutes. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. I take a sip from the warm beer I’ve been milking. I don’t stare at men. Never really have. Not since… I push that thought away, not wanting to go there right now. I have other things to think about.
I can’t tell you that it’s clear he got a haircut today. The sides buzzed short and the top left long, like a sexy-ass mohawk. Even his beard is perfectly cut and combed. Just like everything about him. The tips of my fingers tingle just thinking about running my fingers along the side of his head to feel the fresh cut of his hair.
He’s broad and lean and looks nothing like what you’d think a computer hacker would look like. No cliché when it comes to Scribe there. He’s doesn’t look like someone who’d spent years working for the government. No, he looks like he spends half his life in a gym. A GQ model covered in tattoos if ever there was one. I don’t fucking know because I don’t think I’ve ever read the magazine, but I’ve seen the covers my sisters leave around. He’s definitely not something you’d see sitting behind a computer screen doing God knows what. I can barely check my email.
I’ve only met him a few times now, and even with the few words we’ve shared, I already can’t stand him. Or maybe it’s the fact that I can’t stand how he makes me feel when he’s in a room with me. The spark that hit me the first time I’d seen him. Maybe spark is underplaying something I’ve been feeling since I’d meet him. More like a ball of hot lust that’s burning me deep in my gut, making me itch. That has never happened to me in my life. It’s unsettling, and something I hadn't planned for, and I don't like when things don’t go to plan.
He is just so damn…charming, witty, smart, fucking sexy, and the world’s biggest flirt. Well, the last I’ve just heard whispers of. Because, fuck me if I haven’t been listening to anything and everything people say about him. Trying to soak it all in and pretend I don’t care at the same time.
There are jokes here and there about it, but right now I’m looking right at it as he leans against the bar, talking to a beautiful blonde bartender. She is exactly the kind of woman that I’d picture up against him. Under his arm. She’s tall enough to match his height and has curves in all the right places. Womanly. Something I’m definitely not. I haven’t worn a dress or heels in…I search my mind and come up blank. I don’t even have a womanly body. I’m more straight and lean and maybe have a handful of tit. I hadn’t given much thought to it until lately, which only further pisses me off. I don’t do insecure, but I’d caught myself just last night looking at myself in the mirror wondering if a man like Scribe would even look my way. That just burned.
Denim and Diamonds is where all the Ghost Riders like to hang out. That’s the club I’m trying to fit in with, and I’m hoping I’ll be getting news very soon that I’m now a prospect. I’ve been busting my ass to get this. I’ve never wanting something so bad in my life, and I knew it was where I belonged from the first moment I’d met my sister-in-law Mac, also known as Casper in the Ghost Riders. The only female member at the moment. Not only that, but she’s their Sergeant at arms and one of the best snipers that served our country. She put a lot of things into focus for me. Showed me what I’d been missing. This meaningless feeling I’d been walking around with. I know this could fill it. This is something I have to be a part of. Something I want to be a part of me.
I didn’t want to go into the police force like the rest of my family had. Well, the men anyway. I seemed to be the only female in the family who had a desire to play with guns and knives and run with the boys. I’d always been like that, even with all my sisters always trying to dress me up and make me go on dates. I wanted to play with my older brother Vincent instead. Listen to him and Dad swap stories of their time on the force. I wanted a life like that.
Adrenaline. I love it; it makes me feel alive. But I’d never looked at a man before and had a dose of it shoot through my veins. Even though I love it when it hits, I don’t like it coming from a man. Even worse, a man like Scribe. He’s all kinds of wrong for me, and while I might be able to hang with the guys, I don’t have much experience really playing with them like that. Like I said, that spark had just never hit.
“Violet, don’t look so tense. You got this,” Casper, my sister-in-law says to me. I glance over at her. Like always, she has her long black hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. But unlike her usual tight black tee, today she has on a loose shirt hiding her little baby bump.