SMITH (The Beckett Boys, Book One) by Olivia Chase Page B

at him. He’s radiating sex, and several of the younger women—and a couple of older women—are eye-fucking him so hard it makes me feel a small surge of jealousy.
    But when I turn back to look at him after scoping out the crowd outside, his eyes are locked on me, and I forget everything else.
    “Um. Thanks for the ride,” I tell him. When his mouth quirks in a half smile, I chuckle and say, “I mean on the motorcycle, you perv.”
    “Let’s go get some pie.” Fuck, his voice is just as sexy of a rumble as that motorcycle. Is there anything about him that doesn’t turn me on? It’s almost embarrassing how much I feel in heat around him.
    “It, uh, seems like a really long wait,” I tell him.
    “I have connections.” Smith takes my hand and leads me in front of the crowd. He weaves his fingers in mine, and I tell myself it’s just to get us to the building, because if I start thinking it’s anything more, I’ll just get hurt again.
    I can’t let him make me feel bad about myself, the way I did when I woke up alone, mortified, thinking maybe the night wasn’t as impactful for him as it was for me. I’m only here because he made an obvious effort in this, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to drop my guard.
    Besides, it would be good for me to explore more of Rock Bridge. Right?
    The door dings when we come in, and the older black woman at the register waves Smith over. “Holy shit on a shingle, it’s about damn time you get your ass in here, you overworked moron. I was wondering if you ever take a day off from that skank hole you call a bar.”
    A barking laugh erupts from my chest at her blunt words, especially when I see Smith narrow his eyes but not lash back out at her. I have no idea who she is, but I already like her. She seems like she can tame the beast in a way no one else can.
    “Aunt Sylvia, can you fit us in?” he asks her, obviously exasperated but reining it in. “Aubrey’s new to town, and I told her the key lime pie here is the best.”
    “Well, damn right it is. I make it myself fresh every day.” She gives a matter-of-fact nod then eyes me. Her eyes are the same color as dark amber, and her skin is smooth, despite her advanced age. “You’re pretty. Sweet-looking. Not his usual type.”
    I feel my face flush. “Sounds like that isn’t such a bad thing,” I mumble.
    She cackles and smacks my upper arm. “This one’s got spitfire. I like her.” She leads us through a room packed with tables to a small two-top table right by the fryer. “Best I can do, so suck it up.”
    “This is fine,” I assure her. “We appreciate you fitting us in.”
    Aunt Sylvia moves away back to the register, and we sit down. Due to the location of the table, we’re forced to be right beside each other, since the table is pressed in between the building wall and the half-wall of the fryer area.
    A teenaged waitress brings us waters, and I take a deep gulp as I try to pretend I’m not totally nervous about being out with him.
    I can’t believe I’m here with him. That we’re on what is definitely looking like a legitimate date, something he said he doesn’t do. So why me? I can’t help but ponder it as we sit in silence for a minute, then two.
    I shift in my seat. “So you got today off work, then? Sounds like you never leave the bar.”
    Smith groans and reaches for his water. I see the snake tattoo peeking out from his sleeve, wrapping around his forearm. “Aunt Sylvia exaggerates. Kind of.”
    “Is she really your aunt?” I’m not sure if that’s a rude question to ask or not, and my cheeks get a little warm.
    “Sure is. My granddad married her and brought her here from Key West. She’s his second wife after his first passed away young. But she hates being called Grandma, so she makes me and my brothers call her Aunt.” His face softens and he seems different, less edgy, as he talks about her. “After my dad died, she got us through the hard time.”
    “Oh God, I’m so