Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)(22)

“Nice meeting you,” Trevor said with a friendly wink.
I got butterflies when Reno turned to face me. He had a compelling appearance—handsome, but in a rough and dangerous “don’t fuck with me” kind of way. Maybe it was the canvas of muscle that pressed against his tight-fitted shirt, or the sharp cut of his jaw, or the concealed weapon beneath his shirt. But it was definitely the stony expression on his face.
His musky cologne filled my nose, and I waited impatiently for him to speak. I wasn’t sure what Denver had told them or what they knew about Jericho and me. “I just wanted to thank you for saving my butt yesterday. My boyfriend is mixed up in some trouble I didn’t know about. I’m really glad you showed up when you did; I don’t want to imagine what could have happened if my animal had come out in broad daylight and killed a human. You only grazed his leg, by the way.”
“I never miss my intended target,” Reno replied. “He’s human, and I couldn’t take the risk. Your boyfriend needs to sort his shit out.”
“Yeah, he does,” I agreed in a disgusted tone. “Anyhow, I hope you guys ordered something good to eat because it’s on me, so don’t be cheap. It’s the least I can do. I really appreciate that you stepped forward for a stranger. You didn’t have to do that and—”
“And yeah, I did. I don’t turn a blind eye to a man handling a woman that way. There’s a line you don’t cross with me, and it wouldn’t have mattered if you were a human or another Breed. You treat a woman right,” he said, kissing April’s forehead in a possessive way that clearly showed his devotion to that human.
I smiled at both of them and touched his broad shoulder. “We need more good men like you. Anyhow, hope you guys enjoy your evening. April, I’d love to swing by your store this week. Hopefully you have some of the old-fashioned candy I love so much.”
“We sure do. I usually work the afternoon and evening shift,” she said. “I’ll make you up a special bag for your first visit.”
As I left the table, contentment filled me up. I’d always thought it was important to show respect when someone stretched out their neck for you. It’s what Jericho had taught me during our years on the road.
Ugh. And there were those thoughts of Jericho surfacing again.
As I approached the bar, a tall man sitting on the stool pivoted around with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He had brooding, wanton eyes, and despite my irritation with him, they still made me flush all over. Jericho wasn’t built like Reno, or even Denver. He was over six feet tall with slender muscles, but not skinny. I didn’t have x-ray vision, but back in the day, he used to have a six-pack that made the girls salivate. Jericho knew damn well how to wield the sex appeal that God blessed him with. He’d pulled back his hair into a loose ponytail, several strands falling around his face. His black jeans and concert shirt fit him snugly, and I got a better look at the tattoo on his left arm. It was a guitar half-filled with ink, like a yin-yang design with sexy curves.
He watched me with jade eyes rimmed in black—a creamier shade than mine. They stood out because he was wearing smudged eyeliner, and I found myself noticing little things about his appearance. Like the rings on his fingers, and the long chain that hung from his back pocket and attached to one of his belt loops.#p#分页标题#e#
Ignoring him was an exercise in futility. So rather than pretend what we both knew I couldn’t ignore, I casually approached him and leaned on my left elbow.
“How was your walk home?” he asked, his lips twitching.
I munched on a salty pretzel from a bowl on the bar. “I’ve always enjoyed an early morning stroll. The fresh air does amazing things for my skin. I should do it more often.”
Tension crackled between us—the urge to slip into our old banter battled it out with the animosity I felt.
I dusted the salt from my fingers, and a few rowdy men shouted from a nearby table. I glanced their way when Jericho suddenly hopped off his stool and roughly pinched my chin. He was a good seven inches taller than I was, so he bent down to examine me closer. He brushed back my hair and tilted my head.
“What is wrong with you?” I finally said, knocking away his arm. As I leapt off the stool, he corralled me against the bar and pulled my hair back, gripping it with a tight fist. I couldn’t move and was three seconds away from calling for help, although I had doubts Denver would gallantly leap over the bar to break this one up.
Jericho brushed his fingers across my jaw. “Who put that mark on your neck?”