I polish off three pieces before I slow down. God, I was hungry. I've watched Tank the whole time. He looks familiar…
"I know where I saw you. You're the bouncer at Eclipse."
"And you're the chick who can't hold her liquor."
"I'm in the middle of a bad breakup. I'm allowed to overindulge." I gesture at him with my crust. "You'd better eat something, if you want any."
With a shake of his head, he reaches again for his first slice. He inhales it, reaches for a second, folds it onto a third slice to make a pizza sandwich, and eats it that way. Within minutes, he's decimated half the pie.
"Dude. Want me to order another?"
He shakes his head.
I study him further. Motorcycle boots, jeans, tee-stretched over his stunning Hercules physique. He carries the smell of motor oil, and something else-a scent like cinnamon spice, not unpleasant. I have a pretty good sense of smell. In the past, I've decided not to date guys, or take on clients, because they didn't smell right. Just another odd thing about me.
As big as he is, and as much as he's tried to intimidate me, he seems pretty reserved. His movements are careful, controlled. I can't see him hurting a woman. Maybe that's why I felt so comfortable pushing his buttons from the start.
"What?" he asks, and I realize I've been staring for over a minute.
"Nothing." I muster innocence.
"So how did you become a Werewolf?"
He almost chokes. "What?"
"I assume you weren't born riding a motorcycle. When did you join the gang?"
He clears his throat. "Not a gang. A club."
"Oh," I tilt my head to the side. "A club. Like the Mouseketeers?"
"No."
"Do you have a cheer?"
"No." He rubs his forehead.
"So, can women become Werewolves? I've always wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle."
"We don't call ourselves that. At least, not in public."
"Right. You just have moon tattoos and wolves painted on your bikes."
He glares at me, and I raise my hands in defense.
"What? You stick to a theme, like I said. I admire that. If you didn't want your name to be obvious you shouldn't all hang out at Club Eclipse." Tank's expression is carefully blank, but I can see I'm getting to him. Good. "Does Garrett lead some sort of Monster Mash dance every full moon? 'Cause you should. In fact, that could be your initiation. A line dance to "Thriller."
He shakes his head.
"No? Then how do people join?"
"You can't join. You have to be sponsored."
"Who sponsored you?"
"My dad."
"He's in the club?"
"Yeah." He looks away, as if he didn't mean to give me that little tidbit.
"Oh, nice. A family affair." I smile sweetly, and his jaw clenches. He's practically grinding his teeth.
Excellent.
"So, if I get a motorcycle, would you be my sponsor?"
"No."
"No? I have a lot to offer a club. I can make a mean margarita. And margarita flavored cupcakes."
"No."
"I can fix the club's website. I've been there, and it is dire."
"You've been looking into us?"
Oops. He's all tense again, so I shrug. "Your little leader is dating my best friend. I did some digging." He glares and I raise my hands. "Relax. Everything I found was legit. Except the website. A color scheme like that should be outlawed. Hey, if you let me go, I'll fix it for you at a friends and family discount."
"You do websites?"
"Yep. It's part of my business. Online marketing and branding. Here, I'll show you." I jump up. He rises, too, and I wave my hand. "I'm just getting my laptop."
"Don't take too long," he orders.
"I'm not going to escape out the window." Not yet anyway. Not if I can chase him off some other way. "How long did you say you were staying again?"
"As long as it takes."
"If you want something to drink, help yourself. I have water and water."
I grab my computer. Before I return, I stick my head into the bathroom and brush my teeth. I fluff my hair and apply some lip gloss. Not that I'm going to flirt or anything. But just in case. I give the girls a boost, you know, for support, not to show them off to a certain sexy biker.
When I return, he's cleared the pizza. And has a glass of water waiting for me next to his. He put both glasses on coasters.
"A housebroken werewolf," I murmur.
"Excuse me?" He glances up. He has sharp hearing. Good to know.
"You put the glasses on coasters." I smile at him. "Was your last girlfriend a bitch? Did she take you to obedience school?"
I chuckle at my own joke while Tank looks longingly at the door. Poor guy, stuck with me. I didn't go to college, but I've mastered the art of annoying people.
"Here." I open my laptop and show him my client portfolio.
"You did all this yourself?"
"Once you learn the basic design, it's not hard." I pull up my most recent projects and point out the before and after.
"It's good. Really, really good. You do great work."
"Well, thank you."
I sit back. Dammit, I need to stick to the plan. But impressing him feels too good.
I keep scrolling through my work. He leans close. Way close. The heat from his body seeps into me. His nose is practically in my hair, like he's-
"Dude, did you just sniff me?" I scoot away from him on the couch.
"Sorry," he mutters. "You smell…"
"I'm wearing deodorant."
"I know. I don't mean you smell bad. It's just…" he trails off with a frown.
"Just what?" I raise my arm and sniff, just to be sure. I didn't put on any perfume in the bathroom because I didn't want to be obvious.
"Nothing."
"Well, what about you? You smell like motor oil."
He blinks "You smell that?"
"Yeah. I've always had a keen sense of smell. You work on cars or something?"
"Yeah. I run the shop."
"The shop? For the gang?"
"The club."