Thrill Ride

by Lane Hart

  “I swear, it’s like the asshole has a sixth sense when it comes to locating hot chicks,” Van replies when they finally face forward again.

  “It’s a gift,” I tell them with a shrug and a grin before I raise my hand to gesture for the beauty to come on over.

  Women are drawn to me—my face, my athletic build, and my wallet that’s always full because I own my own business. The heating and air gig is not just a front for laundering dirty money. Me and the guys work our asses off to make sure it all looks one hundred percent legit. And that’s why we’ve never been caught.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” I say when she bounds up to our table, all sweet, perky, and eager, with a warm, welcoming smile on her beauty pageant face, a pen and notepad poised in her dainty hands.

  “Hi, what can I get you boys?” she asks us with big green, expectant eyes.

  Stretching my arm over the back of the booth, I flash her my patented panty-melting grin. “Could we please get a pitcher of beer and some hot wings?”

  “Sure thing. Coming right up,” she replies with an even bigger smile that’s certain to double her tips before she scuttles off. Watching her ass sway as she disappears is enough to triple whatever tip I was planning to leave behind before I nail her good and hard in the storage room.

  “Fuck, Hendrix, you lucky son of a bitch. That girl is gonna be putty in your hands quicker than you can say hot damn,” Van says while he stares her down.

  “Fuck yeah,” I remark. “Now sit back and learn from the master. Try not to be green with jealousy. It’s not a good look on you.”

  The sweet little piece of ass comes back right away, juggling three empty glasses and the full pitcher.

  “Just a few minutes left on the wings,” she tells us, the hint of a pink blush on her cheeks.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I ask her.

  “Libby,” she replies while concentrating on filling up each of our glasses. “Yours?”

  “I’m Hendrix, and not that you have to remember it, but these two guys are Van and Sawyer.”

  “Nice to meet ya’ll,” she says with a sweet, southern accent. “I’m new here so bear with me.”

  “Looks like you’re doing just fine. New in town too?” I ask since I’m certain I would’ve remembered seeing her around.

  “Yeah, came down from Asheville, looking for a job in Charlotte. This was the best I can do so far,” she says on a sigh.

  “Well, why don’t you let me take you into the city tonight after you get off to show you around?” I offer.

  Her big green eyes do a double take at me in surprise before she shakes her head. “Sorry, but, I can’t.”

  “What?” I ask in surprise. Sunday nights I stay in, but I can make a small exception for her. “How about tomorrow night?”

  She shakes her head again.

  My boys both snicker before Van says, “I’m sorry, miss, but my buddy here isn’t used to getting turned down. Could you please say it again, nice and slow for him, so he can keep up?”

  “Sorry,” she says again with a cringe before she disappears.

  “Nice!” Van exclaims with a smirk as he fist bumps Sawyer.

  I’m still trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Women never turn me down. Ever.

  “You’re losing your charm, man,” Van says.

  “I’m not losing shit,” I mutter. “There’s obviously something wrong with her. She’s probably married.”

  “No ring,” Sawyer declares even though I already noticed the lack of jewelry on her left hand.

  “She must have a serious boyfriend,” I tell them.

  “Or,” Van says as he picks up and drains his beer, “she wasn’t interested in you. Maybe I should give it a try…”

  “No fucking way,” I growl at him. “I called dibs.”

  “We should amend the dibs rule,” Van argues. “If you get shot down within thirty seconds, the dibs is null and void.”

  “Agreed,” Sawyer says, raising his glass in the air in agreement.

  “Fuck you both. That’s not how it works so don’t even think about asking her out,” I point a finger and warn them. There’s no way I’m gonna let them have a shot at her before I do. And she will cave, eventually.

  Unless my boys are right. She’s just not attracted to me but would say yes if Van asked? Or Sawyer? My ego couldn’t take that kind of hit, not when my head is supposed to be focused on planning our next heist.

  There has to be some other logical explanation for the rejection, like she just got out of a relationship or maybe her ex cheated on her.

  While we sit there and eat our wings, I just can’t let it go.

  That’s why when after the guys leave, I stick around until closing and let the two service calls on my business cell phone go to voicemail.

  Chapter 3

  Libby

  “Hendrix Blake can’t take his eyes off of you,” Jodie, the waitress who’s been training me, says when I’m filling up another pitcher behind the bar.

  “Good for him,” I reply, trying to forget the butterflies swirling in my stomach at the mention of the tall, dark, and handsome man who looks too damn good with his perfect gorgeous face.

  “He’s so fucking hot,” Jodie mutters. “I’ll never forget that night he spent with me a year ago. It was so amazing that I cried afterwards.”

  Barely refraining from rolling my eyes, I say, “So, you slept with Hendrix?”

  “God yes,” she answers without the least bit of hesitation or embarrassment. “You have seen him, right?”

  I sneak a quick glance over to the table where Hendrix Blake has been sitting alone, nursing the same glass of beer for over an hour while watching me. For a brief moment, I hold his stare and take in his dark scruffy beard, long black eyelashes, and piercing chocolate eyes filled with confusion because of my refusal of his offer to take me out.

  While I wasn’t all that surprised by him hitting on me, I was caught off guard by how much I actually wanted to say yes.

  This job may be harder than I expected.

  Grabbing up the full pitcher of beer, I take it over to his table just for a chance to talk to him again.

  “You look like you could use a refill,” I tell him.

  “No, I’ve already had two,” he says, placing his hand over the top of the glass. “You know what? Yeah, a refill would be nice,” he mutters, changing his mind. As I pour the golden liquid, he thanks me.

  “You’re welcome,” I reply before I turn to walk away.

  That’s when Hendrix Blake touches me for the first time, wrapping his strong, callused hand around my wrist and tugging me to a stop. And what is it about men in button-downs rolling up the sleeves to their forearms that is so damn sexy?

  “Why did you say no?” he asks.

  Thinking fast, I look him right in the eye and tell him, “Because your reputation proceeds you, Hendrix Blake. And I’m just not that kind of girl.”

  “Then what kind of girl are you?” he asks, releasing my wrist.

  “The kind who wants a ring from a good man and not a fling with a bad boy,” I answer honestly with a smile.

  “A fling is all I have to offer,” Hendrix admits, his dark eyes almost sad about that fact.

  “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard it,” I reply. “A fling is all you let yourself offer. So, let me know if you change your mind.”

  I’m still smiling when I make my way over to Carter’s table and top off his beer too.

  He sticks a cold fry in his mouth and chews it while watching me pour, with knowing blue eyes behind his glasses.

  “What?” I ask when he continues to remain silent.

  Quietly, he says, “Looks like you already have an admirer.”

  “Maybe,” I whisper, hoping no one heard him. “Can I get you anything else?” I bat my eyelashes at him and hope he’ll take the hint to watch what he says in here. He should know better, dammit!

  “Nah, I’m all set,” he replies. “After I f
inish this off, I’m heading home.”

  “Okay, good,” I say with a sigh of relief because having him babysit me so closely makes me nervous. It’s bad enough Hendrix is watching me. I don’t need two sets of eyes constantly scrutinizing my every move.

  “See you there?” Carter asks quietly with a grin.

  “Yeah, see you there,” I agree.

  Rooming with him while we’re in town was non-negotiable, unfortunately. It’s not that I mind sharing an apartment with a guy, it’s just that I can’t get used to having him constantly monitoring everything I say or do. I swear it’s impossible to relax even at home since Carter’s in charge. It feels like I’m always on the clock and never get a single break.

  The rest of my waitressing shift flies by, thankfully. My feet are aching so badly in my sneakers by midnight that I know I’ll have to soak them in the tub as soon as I get home.

  As I’m wiping down the last of the empty tables, I had almost forgotten Hendrix was still here when he says, “I’m on to you” from right behind me.

  “What?” I ask in surprise, turning toward him and realizing he’s close enough to touch. And tall, so tall, well over six feet. He’s put his suit coat back on over his dress shirt, looking every bit the part of a wealthy businessman.

  “That geeky guy with the glasses that was in here earlier is your boyfriend, isn’t he?” he asks me through narrowed eyes.

  “God, no,” I respond adamantly, shocked he even noticed us talking. Doing damage control, I say, “Carter’s just a friend. And um, my temporary roommate. Our families know each other back in Asheville.”

  “Right,” Hendrix says with a grin. “Just two friends who live together, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who the hell are you kidding, sweetheart? You’ve got him all bent out of shape. The man’s mouth was practically watering.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I disagree.

  “He looked like a newly turned vegan craving a taste of your pussy,” Hendrix says, causing a gasp to leave my lips.

  “I don’t know who you think you are, but you better clean up that dirty mouth of yours before you speak to me again.”

  “You have no idea the things my dirty mouth is capable of,” Hendrix responds. “How about you let me take you in the back and show you what you’ve been missing?”

  “I believe I’ve already told you no several times tonight, as politely as possible. Maybe you should take a hint, Romeo.”

  “Can’t,” he says. “I’m not a quitter. When I see something I want, I don’t give up until I get it. So, you should probably get used to seeing me around, asking you out.”

  “God, you are relentless,” I say with a roll of my eyes while trying to hide my inwardly pleased smile.

  He flashes me a wink and says, “You have no idea, sweetheart,” before I make myself walk away.

  There.

  The hook has been set, and now I’ll just have to wait and see if Hendrix Blake is a man of his word.

  Chapter 4

  Libby

  “Hendrix.” I set down a coaster in front of him. “What is this, the fifth time you’ve been in this week?” I ask, since he’s been coming in so frequently for the past two weeks, which is better than I expected. He’s already broke his once a week routine.

  Covering a cringe that I almost miss because he quickly replaces it with his sexy grin, he says, “You like seeing me, even if you won’t admit it. I’m wearing you down, doll, one day at a time.”

  “The answer will always be no, Romeo,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he replies.

  “So then why do you keep coming in here and asking me out, when you know what my answer will be?”

  Stretching out in the booth with an arm over the back, he says, “Maybe because I just like seeing you. There’s something…comforting about knowing when I walk through that door, you’ll be here, that I’ll get to see your beautiful face and talk to you at the end of a hard day.”

  That was not the response I was expecting. At all.

  He’s really laying it on thick tonight.

  “Nice try,” I say. “That may have been your best attempt yet.”

  “It wasn’t an attempt, it was the truth.”

  “Jodie’s here too. Did you tell her the same thing?” I ask. “You two hooked up before, right?”

  “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted that you were talking to her about me.”

  “Insulted,” I assure him. “She told me what a dog you are with all your one-night stands.”

  “That was before I met someone worth two of my nights,” he counters with a broader smile.

  Yes.

  My first instinct is to blurt out yes to his offer of rolling around in bed for hours, which is so bad. My cheeks warm at the thought while I give myself time to come up with the proper reaction.

  “Oh, my god. Two nights? Really?” I say with what I hope comes across as mock enthusiasm, clutching the pitcher to my chest. “How did I ever get so lucky? Excuse me while I go mop up these tears of joy.”

  “Laugh it up, but I never make an exception to my rules.”

  “You have a one-night rule?” I ask.

  “I do. But I would bend that rule for you. We could spend the whole weekend in bed. I’d make you scream until you lost your voice.” With a wink, he adds, “Don’t worry, I can read lips very well, especially the words yes, please and more.”

  Holy shit, YES.

  No, no, no, Libby. There will be no screaming whatsoever caused by Hendrix Blake. Ever.

  “I-I don’t do flings, remember?” I say but even my words are growing as weak as my knees. “And you may be able to spend a whole weekend in bed, but some of us have to work for a living,” I tease, trying hard to not think about what his proposition would entail.

  “Hey, I work hard too running my own business.”

  “Do you really?” I ask, as if I didn’t already know that fact. “Well, being the boss must be so grueling. I bet you never let yourself have vacation days.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” Hendrix says. “I work most nights and holidays so that my boys can be off.”

  “Aren’t you such a good guy.”

  “Tell Van and Sawyer that,” he mutters. “They think I’m a heartless dictator for making them cover emergencies for the past two weeks.”

  “That’s how everyone feels about their boss.”

  “Glad it’s not just me,” Hendrix says with a bigger grin. Behind me, I’m pretty sure I hear panties hitting the bar’s floor.

  “It’s not just you,” I tell him while I admire how his tight white button-down shirt hugs his thick biceps and chest, thinking all sorts of things I shouldn’t, like wondering what he looks like naked.

  “So, I guess I better get out of here if you’re not gonna let me take you home tonight.”

  “Definitely not,” I quickly assure him, unable to imagine the look on Carter’s face if I walked into the apartment with Hendrix freaking Blake.

  “Right, well, see you tomorrow?” he asks as he slides out of the booth. And jeez, I keep forgetting how much bigger he is than me since he’s sitting down most of the time. He towers above me and smells sweet and delicious like…a caramel apple. That about sums him up—he’s one big, hard and yummy, complicated mess.

  “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I say, taking a step back to put more space between us because he affects me so much more than I was expecting.

  Chapter 5

  Hendrix

  It’s one o’clock in the morning and I’m lying here in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, thinking about a certain blonde bombshell waitress when I should be sleeping.

  Right before a heist, I usually sleep less, my conscience keeping me up, or maybe my criminal mind trying to run through every possible scenario of what could go wrong.

  Instead of seeing blue lights and handcuffs when I close my eyes, I see…her.

  Libby.

  I broke my “Satur
day night only” rule at Harper’s the first Monday after I saw her. Now, I’m going to the bar almost every night when I know I should stay away.

  Nothing I do seems to get a reaction from her, though. Well, other than the occasional talking dirty. She doesn’t like that. Or at least that’s what she says. Her body tells a slightly different story. Those big green eyes become obscured by her dilated pupils, her nipples turn to tiny pebbles, and just the soft sound of her gasps make my dick twitch.

  The highlight of my day now is seeing her face, trying to make her blush, and of course, trying to figure out what color panties she has on under her short-as-fuck shorts and skirts. She’s like the biggest cock tease in the world because when she bends over, you think you should be able to finally get a glimpse, only to be let down when you can’t.

  And don’t even get me started on how often I think about all the other men constantly doing the exact same thing I am all day and all night while she’s working.

  The worst part is seeing her constantly shifting her weight from one foot to the other when she’s taking my order because her damn feet are obviously hurting.

  Why the fuck do I give a shit about the girl’s feet?

  This is the question that’s most concerning. I’ve never thought twice about a woman’s shoes or what lies within them, other than to briefly notice a sexy high heel or hold them on my shoulders while I’m pounding inside of her.

  But Libby’s feet? I actually worry about them and hate seeing her in pain.

  It’s so damn stupid.

  Never in my life have I wanted to rub someone’s feet until now. Or buy her the best, most expensive shoes in the world if it meant she wouldn’t dance from one foot to the other while I’m trying to convince her to let me take her home every night.