He’s old enough to be my dad, sure, but I don’t care about that. Age is just a number, and that man is fine as hell with his salt and pepper hair and trimmed beard. Don’t even get me started on those big hands with the tattoos or the way his cut stretches across his broad shoulders.
I bite my lip, remembering how close he stood to me. How he smelled like leather and some kind of spicy cologne that made me want to strip naked and bathe in it.
And he called me beautiful.
Not hot or sexy.
Beautiful.
My fingers drift to my throat without me even thinking about it, and I quickly drop my hand back to my side. I haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. Especially not since...
No. Nope. Don’t go there.
I shake off the ugly thoughts and push off the door, heading down the hall toward my room. I need to get ready to work. And maybe I’ll put on something cute, just in case a certain hottie decides to come down for a drink.
“Pinky, darlin’,I’m still waiting on that bourbon,” Dread calls from the end of the bar, flashing me his dimples.
“Hold your horses,” I call back, rolling my eyes as I grab a bottle from the shelf behind me. “You’d think your arms were broken.”
“I just like watching you bend over to get it,” he says with a wink.
I flip him off, and he clutches his heart like I’ve wounded him mortally, which makes me laugh despite myself. I pour his drink and slide it across the bar to him, and he blows me a kiss before turning back to the pool game he’s playing with Reign.
The clubhouse is quieter than usual tonight. Most of the brothers headed to Onyx Beach out in Cali a couple of days ago for some big meet-up with the charter there, so we’re down to a skeleton crew. Chief’s here with Cora, and so is Morpheus, but they’re both holed up in the office doing whatever club stuff they do.
The rest are just hanging around, playing pool, drinking, smoking weed, the usual Friday night stuff. A few of the girls are dancing to the music blaring from the speakers, and Bubbles is giving Chilly a lap dance in the corner.
I wipe down the bar, humming along to the music, when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Someone’s watching me.
I subtly turn around and look out of the corner of my eye, and there he is.
Rambler’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, those intense gray eyes locked on me. He’s changed his clothes. I doubt anyone else can tell since it’s another black t-shirt that clings to his muscular chest, but I do. I notice the clean jeans that hang just right on his hips, too. His cut is open, and I can see a silver chain glinting at his neck.
Our eyes meet, and for a second, he looks almost surprised, like he wasn’t expecting me to notice him. He shakes his head slightly, like he’s coming out of a trance, and then swaggers over to the bar.
My mouth goes dry as I watch him.
He moves with this confident swagger. Like a man who doesn’t have a single thing to prove–like a man who knows exactly what he wants.
And right now, his eyes are telling me what he wants is me.
Damn that’s hot.
With a smirk on his face, he slides onto an empty bar stool directly across from me, and rests his forearms on the bar. The position makes his biceps flex under his t-shirt sleeves, and I have to force myself not to stare.
“Hi,” I say, my voice coming out breathy. I clear my throat. “Can I get you something?”
His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Gimme’ a beer, butterfly. Whatever you’ve got on tap.”
I nod and grab a glass, filling it from the tap. The whole time, I can feel his eyes on me, watching every move I make. When I set the beer in front of him, our fingers brush, and a shiver runs up my arm.
“Thanks, butterfly,” he says, his voice deep and seductive.
The nickname makes my cheeks heat. “My pleasure.”
He takes a long sip of his beer, still watching me over the rim of the glass. When he sets it down, he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip to catch a stray drop, and the gesture makes my stomach clench.
“I heard you’re leaving soon,” he says.
