Slim nodded, his eyes focused in on Dex. "Dude, when was the last time you did a piercing? I can't remember."
~ * ~ *
“I need a drink.” Dex announced, setting the alarm at Pins. It wasn't even midnight but the shop was dead and we all agreed it was pointless to stay open. “I’m buyin'.”
Blake let out a howl of approval that was a perfect companion for Slim’s whistle.
The loud beeping drowned out the slight murmur of whatever Blue said but based on the nod she was sharing, I figured she was excited about free drinks too. It wasn’t until we were outside and I was trying to inch my way toward my car when Dex turned to look at me.
“You comin’?”
I hesitated.
“You’re comin’,” he said it as a statement instead of a question that time.
I blinked at him standing there with his arms at his sides. “I don’t really drink.” The same way I didn't eat fried foods, white bread, or meat. Plenty of people didn’t like alcohol. But plenty of people also liked to tease me about being a goody two shoes when that wasn’t the case at all.
"You don’t really drink?” He repeated it just like I had when he'd asked me about my visit to the library.
I shook my head.
“No beer?”
“I drank half of one a few weeks ago," I offered.
“Cute girly drink?”
I smiled but shook my head. “Hardly ever.”
Dex’s lips quirked up at the corners again. “Straight vodka, babe?”
I snorted. “The day you get your belly button pierced.”
And I waited. I waited for one of them to say some sort of smartass comment like the majority of people did when I told them. Most people made it seem like there was something wrong with me for not liking the taste of alcohol or beer and especially disliking the one and only time I got drunk. Going into an explanation why I didn't drink was unnecessary.
But none of them laughed. None of them did more than look mildly amused.
Dex finally smiled, gesturing toward his bike with a tilt of his head. “I’ll get you a root beer then.”
Well that wasn’t at all what I expected.
~ * ~ *
There were a lot of things that bothered me about Dex. He was moody, bossy, and overbearing. He could be thoughtless—though to be fair it had only been our initial meeting that demonstrated this. And he was hot.
Not just attractive.
For all of the things about him I disliked that he could fix with a different attitude, the man breathed in oxygen and breathed out sexual masculinity at its finest when he was being a dick and even more when he wasn’t. It was everything from the way he walked, to the way he clipped his words, ignored his messy hair, and wore the ink on his skin, that screamed at that primal part deep in me.
So it didn’t help that all those things that irritated the shit out of me on a regular basis were displaced and replaced the minute we stepped into the bar.
Charles Dexter Locke—I'd found out his full name after spotting a bill with it on there and got a good snort—was easygoing then. Smooth, bossy even toward people he didn’t employ, but he did it in a way that didn’t scream needy or annoying, but rather confidence. The moment we’d sat down at a booth, a waitress was literally right there with a tray of beers on hand. Dex had cut her a quick glance, said the words, “Root beer for the girl, please,” and when the bottled drink was set in front of me, another slice of eyes to the waitress at Mayhem with a low, “Thanks, Rach,” and I swear to God the poor lady swooned.
The look in her eyes was almost comical. Keyword: almost.
I didn’t know how to react around this talkative, casual man who laughed at a story Blake had about his son getting detention in school for cussing.
And his friggin’ laugh.
Damn it. Damn. It.
I had to force myself to remember that this was the man who had made me almost cry. The man who had called me a bitch and called me an idiot behind my back. The same man who had made me think about leaving the only place I really had left.
But he’d apologized. Genuinely apologized and seemed like he regretted what had happened. Whether it was because he was really guilty or if he'd been bullied into it, it didn't matter. Ever since our little show down in the parking lot, he’d been distant, cordial, and concerned in a mix. Though I got to know the rest of the guys, Dex was still a volatile enigma.
As hot and smooth and relaxed as he was being, that wasn’t the usual guy that I knew. But then again, what did I know about running my own business and having to balance work and personal relationships with employees? Absolutely nothing besides the fact that Sonny, who I trusted and loved, somehow managed to be friends with him. That had to count for something.