Darien
PULLING UP TO the back parking lot for Blush, I climbed out, grabbed the gift bag I’d brought with , and headed up the outer stairs to the ’employee only’ entrance. I’d noticed soone try to open the front doors as I was driving in, and they appeared locked, so I hoped this would work.
I banged on the door and waited... and waited so more. No one ca, so I banged one more ti. With a force I wasn’t expecting, the door slamd open and I let out a shocked squeak. A tall, tatted man glared at as he stood in the doorfra. "Yeah?"
"Um, sorry. I was wondering if Mack was here."
His face showed surprise. "You’re here to see Mack?"
I nodded holding the gift bag closer to my chest. "Yes. If he’s available. If not, that’s fine. I can co back."
"Babe, you’re not getting one foot inside this door."
"Well, can you tell him I’m here at least?" The man was incredibly intimidating, with his bald head and smooshy features, but I had a mission and Mr. Clean wasn’t going to stop .
"Damn it!" he breathed out and lifted a walkie talkie to his lips. "Mack, you got a visitor."
"No ti for visitors," ca the reply.
Baldy shrugged. "You heard him."
"Right. Can you please tell him it’s Darien? If he can’t see , that’s fine. But I have sothing for him."
"Fuck , lady, do I look like a secretary?"
"Well, no, you kind of look like Mr. Clean went and joined a motorcycle gang, but if you could just tell him all the sa, I’d appreciate it."
The side of his mouth went up slightly and he raised the walkie to his mouth again. "The visitor says her na’s Darien and she’s got sothin’ for you."
There was a brief pause, and then, "Bring her back, Pug."
Wow, the guy really did look like a pug... and not the cute puppy kind, but the sniffly, slobbery kind. He had really nice eyes, though.
"Co on," Pug said, and waved inside.
I shuffled behind him, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but I’d co this far, so I kept moving forward.
"In there." Pug pointed to a closed door and kept walking, which ant I was left standing alone in a dimly lit hallway.
I gave a tentative knock and the door opened.
"Darien," Mack said.
"Hi. Oh, wow, I forgot how gorgeous you are." I blushed. "Crap, I an—"
"You’re gorgeous yourself, Darien," he said with a chuckle.
"Sorry. I don’t an to be a bother, but...," I held out the gift bag, "I wanted to apologize."
"Sweetheart, I appreciate it, but—"
"I know you’re busy and I’ll go," I continued, talking over him. "I just felt bad about earlier and I needed to tell you that."
"Darien, shush."
"Sorry," I mumbled.
I pressed my lips into a thin line and he smiled. "What I was going to say, is you don’t have anything to feel bad about."
"But I was rude," I countered.
"You were?"
"No?" I asked, nodding.
Mack laughed. "Co in, sweetheart. I’ve got a few minutes."
"No, it’s okay. I’ll go. I don’t want to keep you."
He took my arm and pulled further into his office, kicking the door closed. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out the book I’d bought him and stared at it. It was a full color, coffee table book titled, "Ultimate Harley Davidson." I’d made a quick run to Powell’s Book Store, which typically never ends up to be quick, but this ti it was, considering the book was on one of the first tables I passed.
"It’s nothing big," I said. Mack opened it and I suddenly regretted my rash purchase. "Do you already have it? Ohmigod, it’s la."
I turned to flee, but found myself gently pulled back against his hard body. "Darien."
I dropped my head back and swallowed. "Yes?"
"You know you could have called."
"I know." I bit my lip. "But I wanted to bring you that."
He smiled and my stomach did a weird swirly thing. "Which is sweet, but you could have called and I would have picked it up."
"But what’s the point of an apology gift if I make you co to ?" I countered.
Mack chuckled. "Do you always apologize with gifts, or am I special?"
"I try very hard not to do anything I have to apologize for, honestly, but when I do screw up, I apologize with gifts. Um, but that doesn’t an you’re not special." I grimaced. "Do you hate it?"
"Darien, there’s never been another woman who’s brought an apology gift to apologize for sothing she didn’t actually do." His arm slid around my waist. "Truth be told, there’s never been a woman who brought an apology gift to apologize for sothing she did do."
"That’s not really what I asked," I mumbled.
He grinned as he set the book on his desk and turned back to . "It’s thoughtful, it’s sweet, and it’s sothing I’ll treasure. I love it."
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, baby, I’m sure," he said.
"I’m so glad."
"Thank you."
"You’re welco." I smiled. "Is your bike in there?"
Mack picked the book up again and thumbed through it, careful not to bend the pages. When he got to the Fatboy, he pointed. "Mine looks a lot like this."
"Oh, wow, that’s really pretty."
He chuckled. "Bikes aren’t pretty, Darien."
"Oh, sorry." I giggled and did my best Cheech impersonation. "It’s like totally cool, man."
Mack laughed again.
"Do you have a real na?" I asked.
He slid his hand to my neck and stroked my pulse. "A real na?"
"Yeah. The na on your driver’s license. I feel weird calling you ’Mack.’"
"You do?"
I nodded.
"How co?"
I blushed. "Because you’re too pretty to be compared to a semi."
He chuckled. "Logan Reed."
"Of course it is," I ground out. "Couldn’t you be a Myron or sothing?"
Before he could respond, a voice ca over the walkie. "Mack, got a delivery question. Need you out front."
"Be right there, Knight," he answered back.
"I’ll let you get back to work," I said.
"Why don’t you co et so of the guys?"
"I really didn’t an to interrupt your work. I should go."
He reached out and took my hand with a smile. "Stay for a bit."
"Are you sure?"
"I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t."
"Okay. But kick out if I’m in the way, okay?"
Mack nodded. "Whatever you say, baby."
I squeezed his hand and sighed.
"What?"
"Can you try to lay off the endearnts a little?" I requested.
"I didn’t an to offend you."
"No, it’s not that." I felt my face grow hot again. "I just find them very distracting and it makes want to... ohmigod, never mind."
"What, Darien?"
I shook my head. "Okay, look, I have this thing... this problem, if you will. I tend to say what’s on my mind and it gets into trouble. It drives my sister batty, but I’ve never been a good liar, I don’t really know how to play gas, and I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. I have this really bad habit of believing what people tell , so when you call ’sweetheart’ or ’baby,’ it makes you more attractive to , and my sister says you’re dangerous. With your reputation, I know you know your affect on won, and I’m unfortunately not immune to that affect. But I like you. You seem nice and I like to be around nice people, but I have no illusions as to what kind of won you like."
"I don’t think you have any idea what kind of won I like."
I rolled my eyes. "I’m pretty sure they’re not dorky red-heads who have no filter, so if you could just cool it with the endearnts, I’d really appreciate it. I don’t want to run the risk of falling in love with you."
"And what about you?" he asked.
"What about ?"
"What will you do so I don’t run the risk of falling in love with you?"
I groaned. "This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re gorgeous, you have this super sexy na, and I find you a tad bit irresistible."
"You don’t think that goes both ways?"
"No, I don’t think it goes both ways."
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