Her legs ate up the space between them. He hulked over her, appearing much bigger from that perspective than when he was behind the bar. But that didn’t stop her. Hands fisted, her fury burst out. “This overprotective crap you’re doing has got to stop! I know Red told you to look after me, and maybe I needed it two years ago, but that’s done. Over. You’re relieved of your duties. I don’t need you scaring off my customers, or telling me what to wear, or scaring off guys who I might want to go out with. I’m never going to meet a guy, much less make friends, with you King Konging me every time guys look my way.”

He made a growling noise low in his throat, shoulders rising.

“I can take care of myself. Stop. Watching. Over. Me.” She poked his chest to emphasize each word, unable to stop spewing venom. “I spent years living under some guy’s thumb, and I will not have you ruining my life. Back off, Diesel. Do you understand?”

His dark eyes drilled into her, jaw tight. “You done, sparky?”

“I am not your property. Stop calling me that. I’m not your anything. You work here. I work here. End of story. You do your job. I’ll do mine. Are we clear?”

He made a half grunt, half scoffing sound, that maddening, cold stare turning into something much darker, as terrifying as it was seductive. He stepped closer, and she stepped back, bumping into the counter. He boxed her in, placing his tattooed hands on either side of her, and lowered his face to within an inch of hers, sucking all the oxygen from the room.

“You want me gone, take it up with Red,” he grated, low and deep, and then he rose to his full height and walked back into the bar, leaving a cold draft in his wake.

The air rushed from Tracey’s lungs, and she pressed a hand to her chest, shaking all over. Slow clapping rang out from the back of the kitchen, and she spun around, mortified at the sight of Bullet Whiskey, a brooding, tattooed, bearded biker whose size rivaled Diesel’s. He was clapping, and beside him Finlay, a petite blonde, held their eight-month-old daughter, Tallulah.

“Bullet,” Finlay chided, handing him the baby. “Can’t you see she’s having a hard night?”

“Ohmygod, you guys. I can’t believe you saw that. I had no idea you were here.” Tracey was mortified.

Finlay rushed to her side. “Lulu was cranky, so we took her for a ride, and we just stopped by to pick up my planner for the expo. But, Tracey!” Finlay hugged her. “You finally stood up to him. I’m so proud of you. Are you okay?”