Free Erased by Elle Christensen, K Webster Page A

the door closed behind me. I’ve blinked back my tears, but they’re barely at bay.
    Seconds later, the door opens and Slade slips inside.
    “Okay, first of all,” he snarls as he reaches down and pinches the fabric of my skirt, “what in the ever-loving fuck is this?”
    I bite my lip and shake my head, willing the tears to stay away. My eyes refuse to meet his. “The man-pants were too short.”
    “Man-pants?” His voice holds a slightly humorous edge to it, and I hope that it indicates he’ll go easy on me.
    “Yes,” I sigh dramatically. “High-water man-pants. Why do you want me to be ugly?” This time, the tears well in my eyes. I don’t understand him.
    His hand slips under my chin and he lifts it so he can see me. For a split second, I think I see regret in his eyes. I hope it’s regret for his awful words from earlier.
    With narrowed eyes and complete seriousness, he practically breathes out his next words—they’re that soft. “You could never be ugly.”
    My heart does a little flutter and a tiny smile tugs at my lips. His eyes fall to them and then they darken. After clearing his throat, he once again glares at me.
    “What the hell was going on at that table? You know you have to be wary of everyone who comes in here.”
    The tears come back and roll down my cheeks. “He isn’t after me, Slade. I was just making small talk.”
    He growls, “No more small talk. It’s fucking dangerous.”
    “I hate it here,” I whisper and look down at my feet. When big, fat, ugly tears fall and splash on my tennis shoes, my eyes fixate on the wet spatters. “I just wanted to talk to someone. He seemed interested in me.”
    “Fuck, J. You can’t go cuddling up to every asshole who comes in here and shows an interest. Get a fucking puppy, but don’t get yourself killed because some douchebag calls you pretty.”
    His words cut me deep and I’m momentarily stunned by them before finding my inner claws again.
    “He wasn’t going to kill me. And he called me gorgeous.”
    Another growl. He almost sounds possessive. Too bad I know the truth. He’s just a fucking bull dog that growls all the time. I’m a burden to him, not a possession.
    “Simon took over your table.” His voice is calm but firm.
    As he starts to leave, I sniffle, “It was all taken from me. I don’t know how long I have to stay here, but don’t take away every shred of me. Please.”
    He stalks over to me and envelops me in his intoxicating scent. God he smells amazing. I shudder when he palms my cheek and his rough thumb gently strokes my face near my nose. My eyes find his steel-colored ones and beg for a little more length on my leash. For one single moment, I think he’ll cave. The small twitch of a smile tells me so.
    But I should have known better. Suddenly, his authoritative walls are back up and his glare is back in place.
    “Stop getting personal with the customers. You can take the next table, but Simon already took over that customer. The skirt can stick around for tonight only, but tomorrow, just wear fucking jeans.” Then he pinches my cheek—much like my father would do—before dropping his hand and leaving me with nothing but tears, confusion, and anger.
    Jill misses Joss.

HER TEARS ARE killing me. I want so badly to wrap her up in my arms and take away all the hurt in her right now. Especially the hurt I’ve caused. Instead, I step back and let her pass by me.
    I stand there for a moment, but my feet eventually take on a mind of their own and I find myself wandering out to the bar. She’s at the kitchen window, grabbing an order. Just as she turns to take it to her customer, her eyes meet mine for the briefest of seconds before she quickly looks away and practically runs off to deliver the food. I can’t keep my eyes from following her around the room.
    “You should just ask her out, boss-man.” Simon has stepped up to the bar and is staring at me while he waits for requested drinks. With a lopsided grin,