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Heat pricks my skin, my cheeks blush. He notices. Always.
His cold eyes wander. They drop to my dress, a coral and teal floral pocket dress that reveals the tops of my breasts. He was with me when I bought it at a vintage street sale a year ago. Said if I wore it for anyone else, he’d kill them. He wasn’t serious. Or was he?
He lifts his hooded eyes to mine and blinks away the expression. It screams,“Why’d you wear that dress?”while his posture remains relaxed, a practiced indifference that never wavers on a king.
He diverts his attention to the manager approaching. Silence lingers, the only sound in the room the hum of the bike idling.
Tiller’s eyes are bloodshot, but surprisingly not cocaine-black and drift to my lips.
He remembers.
I can’t forget.
The manager taps his shoulder. “Sir, you can’t be in here.”
Hardly one to make eye contact, Tiller doesn’t look at him. “I made reservations.”
“Did you?”
Tiller nods, and his eyes tell me he’s smiling under the helmet. “It’s under motherfucker.”
My shoulders slump. He’s doing this on purpose, and I want to scream at him. I want to beg him to stop destroying my life, but then again, do I want that? Could I handle him not in it?
The manager’s face flushes, his patience gone. “You need to leave or I’m calling the police.”
“Oh, relax.” Letting go of the throttle, Tiller reaches in the pocket of his riding pants to retrieve his wallet. Carelessly, he tosses his credit card on the table. “Here. Let me buy your meal.”
A throat clears. Cody’s. “That’s not necessary.”
Leaning back, Tiller crosses his arms over his chest and regards Cody with a menacing scowl. “I told you to leave her alone.”
“You don’t own her.” Cody isn’t backing down and probably knows he should.
Don’t tease the devil.
“Yeah, actually I do.” He gestures to me with a flick of his hand. “Look at the way she’s looking at me, and tell me I don’t.”
“We should go,” Cody tells me, my pulse thundering in my chest.
“Nah, stick around.” Tiller pulls out his cigarettes next, lighting up. He takes a long drag, his chest expanding. “Why are you here with him?” he asks, regarding me again. Amusement fills his dark eyes, the smoke from his cigarette dancing shadows around his smirk.
“You can’t smoke in here,” the manager, I’m sure is on the phone with the police, says.
I’m not in the mood, but I also know what happens when you ignore Tiller. He’s like a child and reverts to those tendencies when ignored. Opening my mouth to tell him off, it’s his sudden presence in the room that looms over me, casting a dark shadow on the table.
“Having a nice time?” Tiller’s deep, gravelly voice triggers goose bumps across my skin. Stupid body. Stop having reactions to him. He’s mean.
I meet his intense eyes, the dark irises rocking me to my very core. “Whatare you doing here?” I ask, not bothering to hide my annoyance.
He shrugs. “Out for a Sunday ride.”
“It’s a Monday night.”
He remains where he is, his hard gaze making me shift in my seat. I swear he does it on purpose. “Then shouldn’t you be home playing mommy?”
“Tiller, this isn’t the place,” Cody points out, his voice timid and controlled. “Just leave before you’re arrested.”
Like he cares.