Free Execution Style by Lani Lynn Vale Page B

giving me a glimpse of his straight white teeth.
    “How are you feeling, Mercy?” He asked casually.
    Way too casually. He was either fishing for something, or here to rub my nose in it.
    “I’m fine. Your wife looks pissed that you’re over here,” I said, chancing a look in Sarah’s direction to see her glaring daggers at me.
    Jesus , but the woman really hated me! It’s not like I ever went out with him! I accepted a date, and then never went! That should be the end of it, yet it wasn’t. The rivalry had gone on for nearly eleven years now.
    I got a new car, she got the same kind but with more options on it.
    I got a new house, she bought the one next door and added an addition on it.
    I went to the community college to get my business degree, she went to a four year college and got her bachelor’s degree in the same.
    On and on it went. Sure, they could be coincidences, but they weren’t. I knew she was doing it just to show me that she could.
    I wasn’t even anything.
    I still couldn’t understand it.
    Why me?
    “She and I have a bet. She says you have a boyfriend and I told her the boyfriend was the one…”
    His words froze in his mouth as he got a look at something over my shoulder.
    “Move,” Miller’s very pissed off voice said.
    In fact, words couldn’t even do justice to how pissed off he looked.
    Devon startled.
    I did as well.
    Miller just kind of showed up out of nowhere. I hadn’t even heard the bell on the door jingle with his entrance.
    Devon stood slowly to his full height.
    I’d always thought that Devon was what I would consider ‘big’ and ‘built.’
    That was until I saw Miller, in the next moment, make his way up to within inches of Devon.
    It was like night and day.
    Devon wasn’t built. Miller was built .
    He looked unbelievably sexy.
    I’d also thought the same that morning when I’d seen him dress.
    I’d watch the meticulous process from start to finish, me in the middle of the bed with my comforter up over my shoulders and around my front.
    He’d started first with a basic pair of white socks.
    Then he’d put on his underwear, followed by these black pants that had to have at least a million pockets.
    Then he’d started filling those pockets. Wallet, phone, keys with no less than fifteen keys, clips filled with bullets, change, and what looked like a Leatherman, but he’d called it a Raptor or something.
    Then he’d started on the gun belt, and I’d watched, just as enraptured, as he put on the different odds and ends onto his belt.
    He’d followed the belt up with a white t-shirt, a Kevlar vest, and a plain black polo.
    He was in much the same as he’d left with this morning, except now his shirt was covered in what looked like dirt, and he had a small tear where the shirt buttoned.
    Then I started to take closer stock of his body, comparing him to Devon, and I was in awe.
    Devon had been the high school football star, and had kept up the body he’d had in high school, even going as far as to add on more muscle. He wasn’t a small man, but compared to Miller, he looked like a freakin’ runt.
    Miller’s muscles bulged as he raised up his arm and held his pointer finger only millimeters from Devon’s chest. “How about you keep your bullshit to yourself, and the next time you think to come and harass my girl, you think twice. Maybe think about what it’ll feel like to have my fist planted in that pretty little face? Hmm?”
    Devon held up his hands. “Sorry, man.”
    He didn’t sound sorry, but we were starting to draw the attention of every man, woman, and child in the diner, as well as outside on the street. So, with shaky legs, I stood, tossed my dollar fifty down on the table to pay for my drink, and grabbed a hold of Miller’s bicep.
    My fingers couldn’t even touch as I wrapped them around his bulging bicep. Not even close.
    His muscles jumped under my touch, but he never took his eyes off his target.
    And Devon was trying really, really hard to