When he stands there and doesn’t walk away, I raise my eyes to his. “Is there anything else?”
Chapter 3
Jason
Is there anything else? She doesn’t have a clue. I could stand here for two hours straight and still not even begin to cover what all I want from her. My hand tightens around the delicate boxes in my hands. I can’t help it, though. That question from her has all kinds of thoughts going through my head. Most of them involve her and me in a bed somewhere. But unfortunately, I don’t think she’s ready to hear any of my wayward thoughts.
I set the boxes on the counter. I can feel the eyes of every patron on my back. No doubt they’re judging me and thinking I’m not good enough for Tara. If any of them had the balls to say it to my face, I would agree with them. However, even knowing I’m not good enough for her, I still can’t force myself to walk away. Just thinking about it makes me sick. And that’s why I utter, "Go out with me.”
I blurt it out, and I know she’s surprised by the way she wobbles back and looks at me wide-eyed through her long lashes. She has to know that all my days of coming in here, openly flirting with her, practically claiming her, that it would come to this.
She’s trying to keep her guard up. Truth is, I know she wants to go out with me. Or at the very least, she’s attracted to me. Even now, right here in the middle of the bakery with probably some of the biggest gossips in town watching us, her nipples are hard and pressed against her shirt.
I have to drag my eyes away from her full breasts and back to her face. Without her even opening her mouth, I can tell she’s going to turn me down. She almost looks sad saying it. “I really want to, but my judgment on men is not good lately. And what do I really know about you? You just moved here from Texas, and you’re part of a motorcycle gang—”
I interrupt her. “Club. Motorcycle club.”
She shrugs as if there’s no difference, but I know there is. A gang is up to no good. A club—my club—tries to only do good. At least for the most part.
“Club, gang, whatever. Look, Jason. You seem nice enough—”
I hold my hand up to stop her. “Hold it right there. I’m not nice. As a matter of fact, I’m a dick. I’m cocky, and I say it as it is. If I want something, I go for it, and sometimes I can be selfish.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and laughs. “Really? Is this your way of getting me to go out with you? Sounds to me like you’re trying to get me to run in the other direction.”
I give her a knowing look. “No way, Ma—Tara. I definitely don’t want that. Just like you don’t want some pushover that you can boss around. You need a man that will be good to you and challenge you. You need me.”
She uncrosses her arms and puts her hands into the pockets of the apron around her waist. She takes a step back as if she needs to put some distance between us. "I don’t know anything about you. Why is your ‘club’ here in Whiskey Run?”
I look around the room, and it seems everyone is leaned forward, waiting for my answer. “I can’t say.”
She rolls her eyes. “So you can’t tell me anything about you, but you expect me to go out with you.”
I roll my shoulders. I hate talking about myself, but I will for her. “What do you want to know?”
She takes a step toward the counter. I still can’t believe that no one has needed to come to the counter to pay yet, but obviously no one wants to leave and miss this. “Anything you want to tell me.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m ex-military. I served eight years in the Army. My parents are dead—” I hold my hand up. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. My mother was on drugs for as long as I could remember. She never remembered to feed us growing up, and my older sister worked herself crazy to take care of me and my younger brother. Our dad was a low-life drunk, and he left when I was ten. Trust me, we were better off without him. I drink sometimes but never to excess. I don’t do drugs, steal, lie, or cheat. Like I said, I’m an ass. I know I am, but when I’m with you, you make me want to be better.”
I’m looking over her shoulder as I blurt it all out. Truth is, I have friends that I’ve never told that much to. I never share about my mom and dad, but with Tara, I don’t want to hold anything back. I sure as hell don’t want to hide anything from her.