I gestured at my empty tray. “What does it look like? I’m serving drinks.”
“This ain’t tea time at some goddamn country club, sweetheart. And those people aren’t on the PTA.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m going to need a pie chart or a Venn diagram or a database to catalog all of the many ways I piss you off. Why are you mad that I’m doing my job?”
“You shouldn’t be serving that party.”
“Look, if you’re not going to explain, then I don’t think I’m responsible for listening. I have drinks to deliver.”
“You can’t just wander into dangerous situations like this.”
I threw up my arms. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t wander. I showed up for my shift. Fi gave me the table because she knew they’d tip well.”
He stepped close enough that his boots brushed the tips of my shoes. “I want you out of that room.”
“Excuse me! You’re the one who lets them play here and you’re the one who hired me to serve drinks. Ergo, you’re the one with the problem.”
He leaned in until we were almost touching. “Naomi, these aren’t just weekend warriors on bikes or your typical Beltway roadkill. They can be dangerous if they want to be.”
“Yeah? Well, so can I. And if you try to take me off that table, you’re going to find out exactly how dangerous.”
“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath.
“That’s not happening,” I scoffed.
He closed his eyes, and I knew the big dummy was counting to ten. I let him get to six before stepping around him.
My hand had just closed around the doorknob when he caught me, trapping me between the door and his body. His breath was hot on the back of my neck. I could feel my heart beat in my head.
“Daze,” he said.
Goose bumps prickled on my arms. Warner’s only pet name for me had been “babe.” And for a moment, I was paralyzed with a desire so intense I didn’t recognize it as my own.
“What?” I whispered.
“They’re not your kind of people. If that dickhead Tanner gets too much over-priced scotch in him, he starts hittin’ on anything with a rack and losing hands. That skirt you’re barely wearing is already a distraction. He loses too much, he starts talkin’ shit and startin’ fights. Grim? He runs his own motorcycle club in D.C. Mostly personal protection now, but he still dabbles in less legal ventures. Trouble follows him.”
Knox was close enough to me that his chest brushed lightly against my back.
“Ian’s made and lost more millions than anyone else at that table. He’s got enough enemies out there that you don’t wanna be standing next to him when one of them shows up. And Winona carries a grudge. She feels she’s been done wrong, she’ll burn down your world with a smile on her face.”
“What about Lucian?”
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing to cover the silence between us.
“Luce is a whole other kind of dangerous,” he said finally.
Carefully, I turned to face him. Not quite managing to cover the flinch when my breasts brushed his chest. His nostrils flared, and my heart rate picked up.
“I’ve had no problems at that table. And I’m willing to bet if it were Fi or Silver or Max on that party, you wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“They know how to handle trouble.”
“And I don’t?”
“Baby, you showed up in town in a fucking wedding dress with flowers in your hair. You scream into pillows when you get stressed out.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself!”