Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
With a frown on her face, Izzy turns to me. “Should I go get security?”
I cut a glance at Tyson, who is chuckling softly and shaking his head. As I look into his eyes, I don’t get the sense that he’s here to hurt me. If he actually means to do me harm, it seems pretty reckless to show up at my school to do it. Of course, mobsters have a way of avoiding legal trouble. Still, I’m not sure what his intentions are. If he’s planning on doing something bad to me, I’m not sure our staff of rent-a-cops will be able to stop him. More than anything, I don’t want innocent people getting in his way and getting hurt. Or worse. Not on my account.
“No, it’s all right, Izzy,” I say. “I’ll just have a word with him. Just stay close.”
With the classroom now empty, I lead Tyson inside, and he closes the door behind him. Izzy’s face is pressed to the narrow slit-window in the door, watching us, and despite the tension of the situation, I can’t help but laugh. At least until I realize that Tyson is standing between me and the only door in the room. I have no way out.
Doing the only thing I can do, I move to the far side of the room, making sure to keep several rows of desks between us. Tyson slips his hands into his pockets and looks at me with a strange grin.
“My friend is watching everything that happens in here.”
He shrugs. “So let her watch.”
“She can have security here in moments.”
“What is it you think I’m going to do here?”
The deep timbre of his voice sends waves of warm tingles across my skin that, it shames me to admit, isn’t unpleasant. Not that I’m going to let him see that. “I don’t know. But after you beat your employees in the alley last night, I’m not sure being alone with you is smart.”
“Are you afraid I’m going to beat you?”
“Maybe.”
He laughs softly. “I have no intention of beating you. And as I said last night, I only beat those two for what they did to you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t need to. I wasn’t going to let them hurt you,” he replies. “I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.”
His words make me recoil. It just sounds so … possessive. Which is insane, given the fact that he doesn’t know me. More worrisome is that my instinctive reaction isn’t to tell him to fuck off. Instead, it makes me feel kind of … flattered. It’s a disturbing reaction, and I’m not sure what to make of it. All I know is I can’t let him see that in me.
I clear my throat and stand up a bit straighter. “Well, it’s not your place to do that,” I say, trying to sound as haughty as I can. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”
“Yeah, kind of looked that way last night.”
I sniff indignantly. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t stepped in.”
“I have no doubt,” he says, sounding as if he doubts it very much. “But those men were my responsibility. I was not going to let them act inappropriately with you. I’m sorry if that offends you, but as I said, it was my job to keep them in check.”
I should be offended. I should be really pissed off that he felt the need to step in and be my protector. And there’s that small part of me that is. But that feeling of being flattered, of enjoying having somebody step in to protect me persists. I’ve never had somebody take up for me like that, and I can’t deny that a little piece of me likes it. The last thing I should be doing is encouraging a man like this. He’s dangerous. I know I need to end this conversation, get away from him, and put Tyson Harper in the rearview mirror. For good.
“What do you want, Tyson?” I ask.
“I want to take you to dinner.”
My mouth falls open, and I stare at him blankly for a moment, trying to figure out if I actually heard what I think I just heard.
“You what?” I ask.
“Dinner. You and me,” he says. “How about it?”
It’s so outlandish, I want to laugh. Opening my mouth, I plan on delivering a scathing rebuke, but when I hear the words that fall out, my eyes widen, and my body stiffens as I’m gripped by electric fingers of shock.
“Sure,” I say. “I’d like that.”
5
TYSON
“That meal was incredible,” she says. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal that good.”
“Yeah, Salvatore does it right.”
Looking to make a good impression on Tabitha, I took her to my favorite spot in town. Salvatore’s is the premier Italian food spot in the entire city, and since I’m good friends with the owner and chef, I’ve always gotten a standing reservation. Friendship has its perks. After dinner, we decide to walk it off with a stroll along the waterfront. The boardwalk has a host of quirky shops, quirkier people, and an electric vibe I’ve always enjoyed.