“Anytime, Heidi. Anytime.”
Marco was one of my rare finds. When I met him, he was living on the streets, like I had at his age. He’d been asleep behind my bar, tucked in under a threadbare wool blanket. It had been freezing that night, well below ten degrees, and he’d been shivering uncontrollably. When I walked over to him, he woke instantly, and he’d had this haunting resignation in his eyes. I think I must have looked the same when Frankie had found me. He’d taken me in. Given me a home. A purpose. A job.
It only felt right that I do the same for Marco.
Now that he was almost nineteen, he paid me rent for an apartment above the bar, while he waited to head off to college. He’d been accepted to Boston College, and had been offered a dorm early as part of his grant. He would leave in a few days, and he was going to do great things with his life. He’d been given the chance I’d never had, to go to college and make something of himself, and was getting out of this hellhole. I’d never been happier for anyone. He was such a good kid.
All he’d needed was a chance.
I might be only five years older than him, but I felt like a mother hen around him. I watched him walk away, smiling, before glancing at the guy who’d just sat down at the end of my bar. As soon as I recognized him, my heart picked up speed. There was something about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on, that made me hyperaware of his very being whenever he was in the same room as me. I didn’t know his name, but I knew he had danger written all over him. In permanent marker.
He watched me with narrowed eyes that did bad things to my equilibrium. I knew from memory that they were green. Like, really green. They looked clean and fresh and happy, but he was none of those things. He always came in wearing jeans and a muscle-hugging long-sleeved shirt, which he always rolled up to just below his elbows to show off his strong arms covered in a thin dusting of fine hair. I’d stared at those freaking arms way too many times. I’d never been one for arms, for the love of God, but on him? They just worked. Everything did. In truth, he looked raw, gritty, and dangerous. And he had the faintest hint of a Boston accent.
As if he hadn’t already been unfairly sexy.
He’d been in every night for the past week, but before then, I’d never seen him. When he came in, he barely spoke two words to me and mostly communicated with grunts and money. He wasn’t rude or anything. Just the strong, silent type.
The only personal thing I knew about him was that he ran the mechanic shop across the street. I wanted to know more, and there was only one way that was going to happen. Straightening, I made my way over to him. “Whatcha drinking tonight, Lucky?”
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?”