A couple of days later.
“How did work go?” I ask, looking at her.
She’s wearing the sundress that Pixie gave her; it’s a halter top. Pixie loves wearing halters, but I don’t think that I want Roxy to wear them. The halter emphasizes her tits, and the material is thin. Her nipples are small, perfect nubs. If I can see her tits, other fuckers can, and that pisses me off.
I grind my molars to keep from saying something that I will regret. I start walking to the truck.
“It was busy,” Roxy says, looping her arm through mine.
“I bet it’s a lot of work and standing all day is hard. I’ll give you a message when we get home,” I say, smiling.
We walked out of the diner to the parking lot. I brought the cage because I don’t want to draw the motherfuckers attention.
“Where’s your bike,” Roxy asks, looking around.
“I thought that you would be more comfortable after working all day. You did take the extra shift,” I say, walking to the cage.
“Oh, you’re right. I could fall off,” She says, laughing.
“Fuck! Don’t say that. I’ll be heartbroken if something happens to you,” I say, stopping.
I pull her into my arms and gaze into her beautiful, warm hazel eyes.
“I love you, you hold my heart and soul in your hands,” I say, resting my hands on her shoulder.
“Gosh, you’re really serious,” She says, pulling her brows together.
“Fuck yes,” I growl.
“I love you, for all eternity,” She whispers, tearing up.
“Baby, don’t ever forget it,” I say, kissing her.
Yeah, a deep, hungry, possessive kiss.
I pull back and look around the parking lot. I feel eyes on us, and I don’t like it. But I can’t see any fucker.
I walk over to the cage, my truck. I open the door and help her up. I walk over to the driver's side, get in, and turn it on. I look across the street, and it’s clear.
“Baby, I’m hungry,” Roxy says, buckling up.
“Yes, we’re going to meet up with Viper and Roseanna at Hell’s Cave bar,” I say, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Oh, a bar,” Roxy says, looking at me.
“Yeah, the MC owns several businesses, and the bar is one of them,” I say, looking in the rear-view mirror.
No bikers.
“So, this bar has food,” Roxy asks, raising her brow.
I chuckle, look at her, and shake my head.
“Baby, it’s ours, but it’s not like the bar at the clubhouse. We have civilians and Brothers who like to get a drink and some food. It doesn’t have food like the diner; it has more finger food. How wings, nachos, chips and salsa, fries, and hamburger, very basic,” I say, smirking.
“Ohh. I see. Okay, I want to have some hot wings, chips, and salsa,” She says, smiling.
“I’ll place the order as soon as we get there,” I say, making a turn.
