I sleep, but wake to the same fucking need to see Shay. Of course, I have no intention of going the stalker route and checking her out from afar. Screw that. I want to see her up close and personal. No, I want to talk to her, touch her, taste her, everything.
Shay’s fucking gorgeous standing behind the desk of the Oregon’s front lobby. With her hair tied up into a bun, she looks classy. I don’t give a shit about that part. I just like seeing her face so clearly. The curve of her jaw. The sexy shape of her lips. Those gray eyes lighting up when she sees me.
Her eyes no longer hide what she feels. Instead, they reveal everything as I approach. Excitement shifting into fear before settling into a professional friendliness. I’m not a fan of the last look.
“Hello,” she says like I might be checking in for the night.
“No thank you?”
“For what?” she asks, glancing around before focusing on me.
“For saving you from a murder charge.”
Shay grins. “I wasn’t even close to killing him.”
“No, but you didn’t know how to stop.”
Leaning on the front desk, I study her. Shay pretends my gaze doesn’t bother her. She’s quite the liar.
“Thank you,” she says suddenly. “I lost control and didn’t know how to get it back.”
“Been there,” I mutter, reaching out to touch her cheek. “You sleep okay?”
Her gaze holding mine, Shay nods. “Darby makes really good cocoa.”
“I bet she does.”
We just look at each other while my fingers linger on her cheek. Shay steps back, looking around like we’re being watched. I follow her gaze, but the place is empty except for us.
“What happened to that guy?” she asks, ruffling papers to look busy.
“He lives to be a pervert another day. If you see him, even in passing, you tell me and I’ll handle it.”
“Should I be worried?”
I rap my knuckles against the desk and her startled gaze meets mine. “Yes. You made him look like a pussy in front of a bunch of gossipy shitfucks in Little Memphis. No doubt the whole town knows he got done in by a girl weighting maybe a buck o’ five.”
“I weigh more than that.”
“How would I know with the way you hide it under your flannel and business lady garb?”
While I want to tease her about seeing what she hides, she frowns and focuses on Creepy Spencer.
“Is this guy going to come after me?”
My smile fades. “I made very clear what happens to his cock if he so much as looks at you again. Problem is guys like him have no control over themselves. They almost want to die young and painful.”
Shay’s gray eyes focus on me, hiding nothing. She’s scared and wants me to save her. I see that look sometimes with girls alone for too long. They get stuck on someone making their lives easier.
“Give me your phone,” I say and Shay obeys instantly.
I take the pink cell and smile at the flowered cover. Once I type my number into her phone, I hand it back.
“I made me number one on your call list. If you see Creepy Spencer, you call me. Not Lucky or the fucking cops. You call me and I’ll deal with him. You tell him you called me too. Let him know I’m coming, so he better run.”
Shay studies my face then blinks rapidly. “Okay.”
Man, I want to climb over the fucking desk and taste the lower lip she’s biting. She’d let me too. Out of fear or surprise, she’d let me kiss her. I want her to want it though, so I glance around the lobby.
“Is it dead like this every night?”
“Yes. Sometimes, a lone family will stop and need a room. Otherwise, everyone checks in earlier and doesn’t need much.”
Silence passes between us. I guess I should leave her to work, but I refuse. Though I can’t go, I also can’t say anything I want to say. Shay is scared, so what I crave isn’t on her radar.
“You ever put anyone in room 202?” I ask as she watches me.
“No, why?”
Got her curious now, I come around to the back of the desk where two chairs rest. I lounge into one and pat the second one. Shay looks around, uncertain, before sitting.
“Back when I first got with the club, there was a guy who came to Suede every Friday night. We called him Elvis cause that’s who he dressed like whenever he wasn’t working his normal job as a car salesman. He was a funny guy especially drunk. His mom was a circus performer and she taught him all these fun flips and tricks. I didn’t mind him, but Pax thought he was annoying.”
I pause to think of how pissed Pax would get whenever Elvis showed up at Suede. Like a raging bull, he’d storm out of the bar once the back flips began. I’ve always suspected Pax had issues with clowns and Elvis cemented my theory.