Bonus Scene from Made Marian Mixtape by Lucy Lennox
The Untold Story of How Silvio McNamara Met Anton Attwood
I wasn’t scared by much, but when I saw Attila the Hun in the back room of Simone Marian’s wedding venue, I almost shat myself.
The noise that shrieked out of me was enough to make every poodle in San Francisco gasp and clutch their pearl collars. I flailed, sending my cosmetic toolbox ass over end across the floor, spilling out pots, wands, and tubes in all colors of the rainbow.
Watching my beloved, and excessively expensive, collection of makeup tumble to its death simply prolonged the shriek until I was light-headed.
“Jesus,” his deep voice grumbled. “Drama queen much?”
I gasped and clutched my own pearls. Or… or the collar of my Whacko Maria tiger print shirt since I didn’t have any actual pearls.
“How dare you,” I cried. “How fucking dare you! Do you have any idea how much money that just cost me, you big, dumb, bastard?”
Oh lawd. I’d just insulted a giant meathead who was now going to pulverize me the same way the toolbox spill had crushed my MAC Pro Eye Palette.
I sucked in a breath of regret. My face felt like it could ignite anything flammable nearby which was basically everything in my hairstylist tote. I took a step away from the bag full of gels and sprays.
“I know who you are. Get out of here,” I said in a trembling voice. “What are you doing here? Did Darius send you to find me?”
His forehead crinkled as he leaned down to begin picking up broken eye shadows and dusty mascara tubes. Even when he was bent in half, the man was gigantic and terrifying. His long, dark hair fell over his face in a curtain and the muscles of his massive shoulders shifted under his suit coat. “Who’s Darius?”
I blinked at him. “The man who sent you.”
Atilla looked up at me. “Don’t know him. Oh wait. Do you mean Teeth? That asshole I saw you with at the Boneyard?”
I flapped my hand at him. “Never mind. Ancient history. Been there, done him, don’t want to remember it.”
A low growl escaped him. “Good. Guy’s an asshole.”
He continued to clean up the mess. That was… kind of nice.
“Um… so…” I swallowed. “If he didn’t send you, why are you here, Attila?”
He looked up, brushing his hair back with dusty mauve-coated fingers. “It’s Anton. And I’m friends with Joel Healy, the groom. Used to work for him as a bodyguard.”
That didn’t make any sense. Joel was a good man. His business was on the up-and-up. Attila the Hun… Anton… was a member of the Dark Thorns MC whose business was the opposite of on the up-and-up. It was one of the reasons I’d run the hell away from Darius when I’d discovered who he ran with.
I studied the big man in front of me.
“Does Joel know you’re a Dark Thorn?”
He glanced up in surprise. “What are you talking about? I’m not in a motorcycle club.”
“I saw you that day too. At the Boneyard. You got on your bike and rode off with those guys.”
He tossed the last of the cosmetics into the toolbox and brushed off his hands before pushing off his knees to stand up. The man was colossal. And I was a pipsqueak.
I cleared my throat and tried not to pee.
“Listen, tiny makeup dude,” he said in that sexy-as-hell voice. “I saw you that day and was worried about you. That guy, Teeth, who you were with is bad news.”
I cut him off. “My name is Silvio. And tell me something I don’t know,” I snapped, lifting up the side of my shirt to reveal the now yellow bruise on my side. “Would have been better if you’d told me that night. Or better yet, chucked me in your sidecar and taken me the fuck out of there.”
When he saw the bruise, his entire face fell, as if I’d just told him about the sudden and unexpected death of his favorite grandma.
“No. No, no, no,” he cried, approaching me carefully before dropping to his knees in front of me to touch the bruise gently. “Oh fuck. Oh shit.” He glanced up at me. Were those tears in his eyes? No way.
“Silvio, are you okay?” he asked in a small voice I wouldn’t have thought him capable of. “I recognized you during the ceremony, and when I passed you just now in the hallway… well, I wanted to check on you… maybe get to know you or something, but… shit, I’m so sorry. I should have said something. You got hurt because of me. Because I didn’t think to help.”
I looked up at the ceiling. You will not fall for a giant, scary beefcake, I warned myself.
“Tell me something mean about yourself,” I blurted, needing help resisting the sweetness of his concern.
His forehead crinkled in confusion again. “I… I don’t offer a senior citizen discount at my ice cream shop? Well, except on Tuesdays.”
I gritted my teeth. “Tell me you don’t own a god damned ice cream shop,” I warned.
He winced. “Um, okay?”
“Tell me you keep alligators as pets and have them trained to kill,” I begged.
Anton tilted his head, making his thick, luxurious hair spill across his shoulder. My fingers twitched.
“I have an old dog named Bear who rides in my sidecar… Does that count?”
God fucking dammit.
I buried my face in my hands. This wasn’t happening. Big dumb bastards with tender pink underbellies were my kryptonite.
“Silvio?” he asked sweetly. The man’s giant hands were still warm on my hips and now my dick was trying to point at him as if I didn’t already know which person my body wanted. Badly. “Are you okay? Did I upset you? Do you not like dogs? He’s really very friendly.”
I sighed and put my hands on his strong, warm shoulders. Christ, he felt amazing.
“Alright, fine. You win. Do you want to get out of here?” I asked. “Maybe get a drink somewhere and talk?”
Anton’s face split into a wide, hopeful grin. “I’d really like that.”
*** THE END ***
This story was inspired by the following comment in the Lucy’s Lair Facebook group: