“Same,” I called to his back, practically having to tear my eyes away from Trick and his bulging muscles. “And please, feel free to call me Swayze.”
Eyes amused, he saluted me and straddled his bike, making me shake my head as I walked back inside.
My lips were twitching hard at what kind of a contradiction he was.
Impeccable suit and tie, hair not displaced in the least.
Callused hands, dangerous vibe about him.
Oh, and he rides a Harley.
No, Lynnwood was definitely not your typical businessman.
When I finally returned my gaze back to the men that were unloading kegs, it was to find Trick’s eyes on me, and a frown on his handsome face.
He did not like me looking at other men.
My lips curled up at the corners. Duly noted.
CHAPTER 8
I have to be successful because I like expensive shit.
-Swayze to Trick
TRICK
I wasn’t sure what I expected, but seeing her there at some society function in the middle of a group of hoity-toity friends wasn’t it.
I was delivering beer to the function.
Apparently, the society function, known as Diamonds and Jeans, the best of the best in deep East Texas, had this function once a year to raise awareness for sex trafficking.
The men and women there were all the cream of the crop in society or the ‘elite’ and made it perfectly clear that I was not welcome there.
Well, if they wanted their beer, they better damn well become welcoming.
I got out of the truck, my eyes on the woman that was currently setting up a tent just off to the side of the driveway in the stuck-up estate that had too much money for their own good.
A man, seeing my interest in the woman that he was standing next to and trying to act like he was helping, narrowed his eyes and started to stalk my way.
“You can’t park there,” the man called, causing another man to look up and spot me.
Apparently, they didn’t see the kegs in the truck.
“Just dropping off a delivery of kegs, man,” I grumbled as I dropped the tailgate of my truck and hauled myself inside.
“We have people arriving imminently,” the man continued to complain from the side of my truck. “Deliveries are set up at the back. Where they should be.”
I rolled my eyes. “There was a line of fucking ten delivery trucks. And just sayin’, but I’m doin’ y’all a favor by selling you my kegs. So you can fuck off.”
There was a hiss of annoyance from the other guy that’d been watching but not saying anything.
“Excuse me, but there are women present.” His gaze went over my shoulder, and I knew without turning to look that they were staring at Swayze. “Please tone down your swearing.”
I rolled my eyes, moved the first keg to the tailgate, and then hopped right back down.
Picking the keg up, I cursed myself for unloading these at all this morning since I’d had to reload five of the eight that I’d brought inside only two mornings ago.
Hefting the keg onto my shoulder, I was just taking a step onto the finest grass I’d ever seen when suited guy number one stepped in front of me. “Please, stick to the sidewalks.”
I looked toward the sidewalk, that would take me way out of the fuckin’ way, and snorted. “Move.”
He didn’t have any choice when I started walking forward.
So he did, because otherwise I would’ve made him move, and I highly doubted that he wanted his impeccable suit possibly stained when my dirty jeans and t-shirt touched him.
“It makes sense now,” the man drawled at my back. “Why you were in prison for murder. You’re reprehensible.”
I rolled my eyes again.
Did he think that was the first time that I’d heard that?
Hell, I was at the damn grocery store this morning when a woman had seen me coming and had all but snatched the kid at her side up and threw him behind her, blocking me with her body.
At least, she thought she was blocking me.
I didn’t bother to tell her that her puny little self would be mowed down if I ever wanted to get to that kid. But her attitude was comical, nonetheless.
The people of this town were definitely not used to having a couple of felons in their midst and seemed to be handling it quite badly.
Regardless, as I stomped through the immaculately cut grass toward a man with a clipboard, I was pissed all the same.
I mean, I was a felon. But I hadn’t gone to prison for killing someone in cold blood. I’d gone to prison because I’d been protecting someone.
There was a difference.
As I got closer to the man with the clipboard, the angrier I became. Because every single person that I passed, man or woman, would back away as if a murderous rampaging maniac were on the way toward them.
By the time I got to his side, my face was likely thunderous.
“Where do you want it?” I asked as I hefted the keg higher onto my shoulder.
The damn thing wasn’t light, and the man in front of me, the apparent ‘man in charge,’ was floundering.
“Umm,” he said. “I don’t know. I mean, it needs to go in the refreshment tent, but we don’t have that up just yet, nor do I know where it’s going to be set up. Is there anyway you can come back later?”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“No,” I said. “Because if I come back later, it’ll be during the actual function, and I don’t think you’ll want the ‘likes of me’ here.”
Something that a few of the men at the entrance, already dressed in their black ties and bow ties, said when they saw me pull up in my old pickup truck five minutes earlier.
I hadn’t been surprised by their actions.
Nothing surprised me anymore.
Nothing but the actions of one single woman.
“Just put it right here,” a soft, husky voice said from behind me. “Set the tent up around them. It’s in the middle of the entire function, and would be perfect to have the drinks tent set up here.”
“It’s in the middle of the grass,” the man contradicted Swayze. “If we put it here, people will have to get off the walk.”
“Oh, dear.” Swayze sounded amused. “People will have to walk in the grass. That’ll be awful for them.”
My lips twitched as I set the kegs directly where I was standing.
I left with Swayze still talking to the man with the clipboard.
When I got back to my truck for the next keg, it was to see each man glaring at me.
“Feel free to grab one,” I suggested. “Then I can move my truck faster.”
Man number one gritted his teeth, and I gave him a taunting smile.
“If you can pick it up, that is.” I teased them both, grabbing another keg and carrying it away.
When I got back to where I’d set up the first keg, it was to find Swayze there on her own, staring at me.
“Do you need any help?” she asked, her voice hesitant, as if she was afraid to speak to me.
“No,” I grumbled as I set the next keg down and went back for another.
I was about a quarter of the way away from the truck when I saw each man struggling with a keg each.
I ignored them, walked back to the truck, and hefted yet another onto my shoulder before passing each man and setting it down next to Swayze.