Perfect Chaos(7)

“You off work now?”

“Is that a question, Deck? Really?” Deck didn’t ask questions he already knew the answers to and he knew exactly what time I left the coffee shop on Tuesdays. “You must want something from me. Ah, I know, you’ve missed carrying me out of bars these last few weeks you’ve been away? Well, I’d let you do it here, but my one customer might think you’re kidnapping me.”

“I want you to stop drinking.” No bullshit, Deck. Straight to the heart of what was pissing him off, and as usual, it was me. “What the fuck, Georgie? Every night? What the hell is going on with you?”

“Not every night. And I like to go out.” I’d been overdoing it lately because my girls were gone and Deck or his men had been watching me closer than usual. Tanner had warned me to cool it on the drinking thing.

“What was with last weekend?” He must have heard already about my little episode at Avalanche on Saturday.

“I wasn’t that drunk. And the band asked me to get on stage and sing with them.” Semi-sort of truth. The band had asked me to get on stage, but the singing part was all me. I’d been seeking the attention of a guy who was alone drinking in the back of the bar. I knew the type of guy. He wouldn’t go for a chick who threw herself at him, so I got it another way. And I was good at what I did, but getting carried off stage by security was not in the plans.

“We need to talk,” Deck said.

Oh, that couldn’t be good. Deck needing to talk meant he was talking, I was listening and then he laid down more rules. Luckily, he hadn’t yet tapped my phone or computer. I suspected if that happened, all hell would break loose. And it was a hell he wasn’t going to be cool with. “Can’t.” I grabbed my purse from under the counter and made for the back exit. “Just scored a date. I have to wash my hair.” A lie. I wouldn’t be calling Tristan for at least a week.

“Georgie.” That warning tone sent tremors down my spine. Yeah, I liked it. How totally screwed up was that? I was pretty immune to most men—I’d trained myself to be—and yet, Deck was my kryptonite. The worst part was everyone knew it, which made it dangerous for him and me.

I didn’t want to talk about the drinking. It was a never-ending conversation, and one I wasn’t going to fix anytime soon. But what I didn’t like was that Emily had mentioned it before she left with her fiancé’s band, Tear Asunder, a few weeks ago. Hearing it from her hit hard, because I knew her mom was a real shitty mom who’d been a drunk. I hated worrying Emily like that, but that was who I’d become to everyone. I liked to party, had a sassy mouth and lived under Deck’s thumb. For now, it was staying that way.

I made it into the stock room all the way to the emergency exit before Deck grabbed my arm, hauling me to a stop. I didn’t struggle, there was no point. He’d win.

I sighed and leaned against the door. “Okay, sexy. Let’s get this over with.”

Deck stepped in close. So close, I could feel the beat of his heart against my breasts and his warm breath tickled the fine hairs on my skin. He loosened his grip on my arm then his other hand came up and cupped my chin. My insides were having an all-out rave and I was wishing I hadn’t worn my thong. I needed grannie panties with what was happening between my legs. No control when it came to Deck. Jesus.

“You’re not going out with him.”

I sighed. Here we go. “Why not?”

“Because he’s an arrogant ass.” And he obviously had checked up on Tristan.

“I find that kind of hot. Besides, you’re an arrogant ass.”

Deck didn’t look impressed. Actually, he moved further into my space so his leg was between mine. “This isn’t up for discussion.”

“No, it’s not.” Because discussing anything with Deck just didn’t happen.

“Babe.” Jesus, I seriously hated when he called me that. It made me want to jump him. It also made him sound … well, real and human, not cold and uncompassionate. But most of all, it made him sound like I was his. “I don’t like the blue. Change it.”

A squeak of outrage escaped my mouth, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. When Deck spoke, he told you the truth. With him—no pretence. The complete opposite of me.

I went to smack him, but he got a lock on my upper arms. I struggled, wiggling pretty pathetically considering he was twice my weight and a head taller. “I’m dating him, and since when is my hair any of your business?” Deck had no filter, kind of like me. Except I talked fantasy and bullshit; he talked real-life honesty.