Butcher is taking me to one of the fancier restaurants in town, so we aren’t on his bike. We are in a huge black truck that I needed help climbing into. I don’t think I have any dignity left after trying to bring my leg up to step into the vehicle on top of wearing heels. It wasn’t a great time.

Walking into the restaurant, we are met by a waitress. “Name?”

“Dean.”

I look at Butcher in shock—his name is Dean? I can’t see him being anything other than Butcher. The man looks like a butcher, if you know what I mean, but road names are there for a reason in the MC. I can only guess where he got the name Butcher.

“Follow me,” the waitress says, wide eyed, looking at Butcher.

I laugh under my breath at the sight of her face. She picks up two menus and heads toward the back of the restaurant. As we follow her, Butcher’s hand rests on the small of my back. Everyone turns to look at us as we pass, and Butcher stares every single one of them down, especially the men. He radiates safety and protection—it oozes out of him. The way his hand touches the small of my back, his body slightly curled into my mine to block me from harm, and the way he watches everyone in the room.

“Here you are!” the lady seating us exclaims loudly with a smile way too big.

“Thank you.” I smile and sit with my back to the room, and Butcher visibly relaxes. He sits down in front of me, looking massive and imposing.

The hostess walks away, practically running. I get it: the man is scary, but at least try to hide it. I turn back around to face Butcher, who is staring at me. I smile and look down before grabbing the menu resting in front of me.

“What can I get you guys to drink?” A loud voice directly beside me asks and I jump, my hand flying to my chest. Butcher growls, and I look over and see a waitress standing there with a notepad in her hand. “I am sorry for scaring you.”

I wave my hand in front of me before flashing her a quick smile. “It’s no biggie. I will take a glass of white wine.”

She writes it down and then looks at Butcher.

“Bud Light.”

She grimaces and writes down his drink order. I do a mental eye roll. “I will go get your drinks.” She walks away.

“Where are you from?” I ask Butcher and smile slightly.

“Tennessee.” He sits back in his seat, relaxing.

I gnaw on my bottom lip because I want to know so much about him. “What brought you to Texas?” I fiddle with the edge of the menu.

Butcher’s eyes search my face and then look down at my hands. I feel like he can sense my nervousness. “I wanted a fresh start.”

That I get. I look down and mess with the napkin on my lap. “Ah, I see.”

“Smile.”

My head shoots up at his abrupt tone. Butcher leans toward me. “What?” I say breathlessly, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Smile, never stop smiling, and don’t be nervous around me. Never around me.”

My heart stops at his words, and a huge smile breaks out across my face. I never imagined he could be sweet. His face softens at the sight, and his hand comes up to my jaw, his thumb brushing the side of my mouth. “That’s better.”

Dude, my stomach flips over. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are a sweetheart?”

His eyes open wide in surprise. “I’m not sweet,” he grumbles and sits back in his seat, fixing a glare on me.

Oh yeah, Butcher, I got your number. I arch my eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to everyone else, but you are to me.” I smirk at him and stand up. “I will be back, order for me if she comes back. I need to go to the ladies room.”

At that I step away from the table and cross the room, leaving him with his thoughts. We are in one of the rooms that people can rent, and it’s kind of secluded. We are the only customers besides a group of men sitting a few booths down.

A piece of paper falls off the men’s table and hits the ground in front of me. I know they just wanted to see me bend down, so I bend at the knees and squat down, not giving them the satisfaction. I grab the piece of paper and set it down on the table, looking at the man who dropped it. “I don’t fall for shit like that, grow the fuck up.”

His mouth pops open, and he looks me up and down. “Baby, I could have you bent over this table in a few seconds flat.”

“Sure, that would be the day, asshole, keep telling yourself that.” I laugh out loud and walk past them. That guy is a total fool. Every single one of those men has “douche bag” written all over him—with their all-too-pretty-boy looks. Pussies—all of them.

---

Butcher

---

“I could have you bent over this table in a few seconds flat.”

Rage hits me hard and fast. I stand up and stalk over to the men, making sure Shaylin goes into the bathroom before I approach them. I spot a steak knife on an empty table and grip it in my hand. The man’s hand is resting on the table on top of the note Shaylin picked up off the floor.

Nobody fucking disrespects her like that. Ever. That shit doesn’t fucking happen and sure as fuck doesn’t happen in front of me.

I slam the knife into the table between his fingers, making sure to catch the skin where his fingers meet. The fucker brings his hand back, crying out in pain.

I roll my eyes at the pussy. His head shoots around, and he looks at me. He and his buddies take me in. Fucking take me in. I’m your fucking nightmare.

“What’s up, man?” the one who dropped the note and disrespected my woman blubbers.

“You said you could bend my woman over the table in ten seconds flat?”

He and the other fuckers pale. “Man, I didn’t know she was with someone,” he stammers, and that makes me even more mad. Who gives a fuck if she was with me or not—that doesn’t give him the right to speak to anyone like that.

That pisses me off.

I grip him by the throat and lift him out of the booth. He stands up next to me, his hands on my wrists. I let go of his throat and he starts to back away, but I place my hand on the back of his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

But those are the only words he is getting the fuck out. I slam his face into the table, and I hear the satisfying sound of his nose breaking. “Now who is bent over the fucking table in ten seconds?” I chuckle and press his face harder into the table before letting go.

He stands up and grabs his nose before sitting down, and his buddies immediately start fussing over him.

I go back to the table just as the waitress arrives. “The lady will have a honey-glazed salmon topped with citrus avocado salsa, and I will have the eight-ounce steak topped with seared scallops.”

I hand her both of the menus, and she thanks me and leaves.

“What did I miss?” Shaylin asks and sits down in the chair in front of me.

“Nothing, I just ordered the food.” I wink and sit back in my chair.

She smirks at me like she knows more than I think she does. “Sure you did.” At that I flat out grin. I’m busted.

---

Shaylin

---

As I leave the bathroom, my eyes go to the man I called out, and he is sitting there holding his nose. He sees me walking toward him, and he almost crawls under the table.

Butcher.

Butcher must have heard what he said to me. I laugh under my breath and return to my table. “What did I miss?” I can’t resist asking.

“Nothing, I just ordered the food.” He winks and gives me a smug look.

I give him a sly grin, letting him know that I know that’s far from the truth. “Sure you did,” I say sarcastically and he flat out grins.

I suck in a sharp breath. Fuck, he is beautiful and dangerous. It should be a crime for someone to look like that.

According to the MC grapevine, Butcher serves in the Navy SEALs. “Did you always want to be a SEAL?”

He nods and takes a sip of his beer. “You always want to bake?”

I laugh and nod. “Yeah, I have loved it for as long as I can remember. I used to stand in a chair to reach the top of the counter to stir all of my ingredients together. It was horrible, but my dad and uncles pretended it was the best thing ever.”

Butcher smiles at me, his eyes lit up. “I like your baking.”

I laugh again and sling my hair over my shoulder. “I noticed that, you’ve demolished at least a dozen cupcakes a day since you met me.”

He shrugs. “Damn good.”

I nod. “Yeah, because I made them.”

His shoulders shake with laughter, and I smile wide. I want him to laugh more often. A figure rushes past us, practically running, and I turn around to see who it is. It’s the man whose nose Butcher busted. He keeps glancing back at Butcher, and Butcher drags his steak knife across his throat. That’s all it takes for me to burst out laughing. Butcher drops the steak knife, and it hits the top of the table. That was epic—he’s fucking crazy.

The waitress comes back with our food. “Here you are.” I wipe under my eyes to get rid of the tears and sit back in my chair so she can set my food on the table. I look at what he ordered, and it’s one of my favorite meals. He is staring at me, gauging my reaction. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

He looks down and starts cutting into his steak. I grab my silverware and get busy putting away my own food. I am not ashamed to admit that I ate every bit of what was on my plate.

Once we are finished eating, he pays for the food and we walk, side by side, through the restaurant, his hand on my hip this time. I lick my parched lips and take in deep breaths to contain myself. I like that he is touching me now and he did it without thinking twice.

“Shaylin?”

I turn around and see one of the guys I went on one date with. Butcher’s hand tightens on my hip possessively. I wave to the guy and turn away. We went on one date—what did he expect?

“Too many dicks in here,” Butcher growls. I grin and wrap my arm around his back.

“Let’s go then.” I lay the back of my head against his chest, looking up at him. Butcher’s glare drops as he looks down at me.

We walk out of the restaurant and into the darkness of the parking lot. Butcher pulls me tighter into him, like he is shielding me with his body.

When he opens the door of his truck, I grab the oh-shit handle and lift my leg inside. Hands wrap around my hips, and I am lifted into the truck.

“Thank you.” I wink at him and he shakes his head at me. When he backs out of the parking lot, I put on my seatbelt and take off my heels, which are hurting my feet.

He offers me his large tattooed hand and twines his fingers through mine. He lays our joined hands in his lap, and I turn away, hiding my goofy smile.

“Feet hurt?”

“Yeah, I hate heels.” I smooth my hair over one shoulder.

“You’re just as beautiful without them.”

My jaw hits the floor again. This man is seriously sweet. “Sweet,” I say simply and he shakes his head again.

“Speaking the truth.”

He pulls onto my street.

“Still sweet,” I drawl.

“It’s not sweet when you’re being honest.”

I point at him.“See! Sweet!” I say it loudly this time, and he shakes his head again. I don’t say anything else because he is going to disagree, but we both know the truth here. The truth is he is sweet to me, but we got a visual of how unsweet he was earlier.

After he pulls into my driveway, without a word, he lifts me out of the truck, holding me bridal style.

“What are you doing?”

He shuts the door and carries me up the walkway to my porch. “Your feet hurt.”

And he says he isn’t sweet.