Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)(6)

He shrugged out of his dark brown leather jacket—another item he was never without—and dragged his hands through his dark brown hair. Although it wasn’t completely brown. It had a tinge of red . . . not that I’d noticed, of course. Once he settled his jacket on the stool, he eyed me with those bright Irish eyes of his. “My name’s not Lucky.”

“Are you sure?” I cocked my head. “It fits. I mean, you practically scream Irish. Reddish hair, light eyes. Devastating charm.”

He cocked a brow. “Devastating charm, huh?”

“Sure.” I leaned on the bar. His eyes dipped south but shot back up almost instantly. “You come in here, scowl at everyone, and barely say a word. If that’s not devastating charm, I don’t know what is.”

“Then you need to get out more, Heidi.” He tapped his fingers on the bar and locked gazes with me. “That’s your name, right?”

My stomach clenched tight at the sound of my name on his lips. With his accent, it sounded almost musical. “Yeah. How did you know?”

“I pay attention . . .” He trailed off and gave me a charming—yes, charming—smile. “In between bouts of being lethally charming, that is.”

My heartbeat picked up speed, but I ignored it. I would not swoon over the guy just because he smiled my way. I would not. “Sure. Or you’re a stalker. One or the other.”

“Darlin’?” He leaned in. He smelled good. Like Dolce & Gabbana cologne, leather, cars, and a healthy dose of pure man. And when he said darling, with the hard r dropping off like that, it melted my insides into a puddle of hot want and desire. I bet he knew it, too. “I’ve been coming here all week. You of all people should know I don’t need to stalk women to get them to come home with me.”

I reared back and widened my eyes, doing my best to look offended. It wasn’t easy, because I was pretty much impossible to offend. “Excuse me?” I feigned. “Who said anything about me going home with you?”

For a second, he looked embarrassed. A brief, tiny second. Then the smirk slipped back into place and he tapped his fingers on the bar again. The leashed power behind such a simple gesture sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, that’s just adorable. You didn’t have to say a thing. I’ve felt you watching me every night.”

He was right. I had been. I had a feeling I’d be watching him more closely from now on. My cheeks heated, so I pushed away from the bar. “You never answered me, Lucky. What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes narrowing on the screen. “Fuck. Make that a double.”

“Sure thing.” I turned my back to him and prepared his drink, making sure my hands stayed steady the whole time. I’d never let him see how much he affected me. “Bad news, or news that was so good you need to celebrate?”

“Does it matter?” He reached into his pocket and slipped a twenty across the bar. “I’m paying either way.”

I handed him his drink and took the cash. “Nope. Doesn’t matter at all.”

“Thatta girl.” He took a sip of his whiskey and looked over his shoulder. His strong fingers held the glass, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. “Who are they?”

“Who are who?” I asked, ringing him up and taking his change out of the drawer. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“The guys who have been watching you and whispering since I walked in,” he said, his hard words echoing his rocky accent.

I gave him a slow smile. “Again, you’ll have to be more specific. I’ve been stared at once or twice in my life.”

His eyes slid down my body. My black tank top and shorts, paired with black knee-high boots, suddenly felt as if they’d evaporated into thin air. But instead of giving me some contrived come-on that was supposed to sound original, like all the other guys in this joint, he looked me in the eye and said, “The ones at the table in the left corner. They’re not Steel Row guys.”

I stiffened. Did he not like what he saw? It shouldn’t matter, but it did. “I don’t know. They’ve been acting shady all night.”

“More than shady.” He raised the glass to his lips. “They’re up to something, and it involves you.”

“Well, unfortunately for them, I’m not interested.”

“I don’t think they give a damn if you’re interested or not,” he said, his voice hard. “Do you live upstairs?”

“No. Marco does.” I blew my hair out of my face impatiently. “I live about three blocks down.”

He frowned. “Do you have someone to go home with at night, or do you walk alone?”

“That’s none of your business,” I shot back. “I don’t even know you. You don’t get to go all GI Joe on me.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “That might be so, but I’ve never been one to care about that. And you didn’t answer my question.”

The music seemed to get quieter and the barroom chatter faded as I held his gaze. My fingers tightened on his change.

“You didn’t ask me very nicely.”

“I won’t.” He raised a brow, giving me a look that made his eyes darken. But beneath that scrutiny, there was something else. Concern? No. That couldn’t be right. “Are you walking alone, or no?”