That time I did blush. Before scanning her more closely. More slowly. Gone was the gangly neighbor girl from my past. The teen who’d been my sister’s best friend and become my friend in turn.
Golden-skinned, she smelled so good—something like the ocean at Sullivan’s Island when the waves rushed in. Her hair was sun-streaked rich brown and honey-gold and razor-edged from the very nape of her neck to a sharp angle below her delicately boned jaw. No ink marked her sleek flesh, not like me. My most prominent tat on my left shoulder was a motorcycle with the emblem Ride or Die. But I was inked from my shoulders to my wrists—wrenches, skulls, Once upon a wish, not to mention the massive MC backpiece.
Back to Shy who I couldn’t take my eyes off of. Goddamn. A lot of skin showed between the sheer slouchy top just barely remaining this side of sultry instead of slutty by a flash—a band of bright color—wrapped around her tits beneath the see-through thing that sloped off one naked shoulder. Her jeans were tight, rolled up, and her lengthy legs ended in heels that added to her height but only brought her to my chin.
Gold jewelry, high quality, at her ears and her wrists. And when she hooked back her hair with a smile tipped up at me, I saw she had a bar piercing the upper cartilage of one ear.
The only spare flesh was on her ass, in her hips, and her tits, which I was pretty fucking sure I’d never stared at before—and probably shouldn’t start now.
“Get a long enough look?” Her eyes, the color of polished silver, slanted up at me.
Shy. Couldn’t even remember why I’d given her that nickname. Maybe to distance myself. Not that there’d ever been or ever would be anything between me and Miss Shiloh Lockhart of the downtown Charleston Lockharts.
“Been a long time.” I aimed a grin at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I know Sadie.”
“Everyone knows Sadie,” Kinkaid muttered.
I heard the assholes all around making the usual sly off-color comments about the possibility of us hooking up. Towing Shy to the table designated as private, I sent an unmistakable scowl to my brethren to make sure they backed off and laid off.
“Where you been, girl?” I held out a chair for her.
And everyone in the place sounded off with wolf whistles.
The message. They didn’t get it.
Surprise.
“Where’d you get them fancy manners, Handsome?” Brodie chuckled, holding a very pregnant Ashe in front of him.
I already knew my fingers were gonna get a workout tonight as I flipped him the stiff bird.
“Paris.” Shy sat down. “Then Italy. Then, um . . . studying fashion.”
A ripple of testosterone-fueled energy filled the room when she stroked the tip of her tongue across her full bottom lip.
These fucking guys. They weren’t gonna get their hands on Shy, because I’d break ’em first. No goddamn lie.
I sat next to her, screening her body with my bigger form. “Fashion, huh? What brings you back to Chucktown then?”
“I’m starting my own pop-up shop.”
“How’s it you know Sadie?”
“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?” She looked over, her large gray eyes luminous, and the gold bangles on her wrist shifted when she laid a hand over mine. “Isn’t it my turn yet?”
I withdrew my hand. Friends and neighbors, that was what we’d always been. She was like a kid sister to me.
But at that moment? Shy looked something close to pretty serious danger.
Sexy danger at that.
Chapter Two
Shy No More
“MAYBE,” I HEDGED.
“Oh, good.” Shy’s features screwed up, just enough to be even more . . . adorable, but then she released a light laugh. “First question: are you going to buy me a drink, Max?”
“Depends on how hard you like your liquor. The beer probably won’t kill you though.”
I expected her to ask for some fancy cocktail—a goddamn lemon drop or mojito or something—but Shiloh tapped her nails on the table and said, “Bourbon. Neat.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh. You thought I’d turned into a daiquiri kind of girl?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. Calling over to Coletrane, I added one for myself to the order.
Dickhead presented the drinks a minute later with a flourish of a towel and a dip from his waist. With his giant chains at the neck and wrists offsetting his at your service service.
He gave two thumbs up behind Shiloh’s back as he departed.
The weirdest shit about the MC. The bad-mouthed, loudmouthed fuckheads all thought they were matchmakers. I narrowed my eyes at Cole, Mr. eHarmony wannabe.
After taking more than a delicate sip of her drink, Shy regarded me. “You’re part of the club then?”
Her palm smoothed up my black leather cut with the Retribution patch on my chest.
“Not really South of Broad material anymore.” I sipped more slowly, feeling the heat that beat off of her.
Denying its warmth on my skin.
“I blew your cover? No one here knew you as Maxwell Rush?” She pearled her tongue along her lips again, the wafting scent of bourbon billowing around us.