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“Aww, poor kiddo.”
“Yeah, she’s a sweetie.” Jazz set the coffee pot on the table. “So, you wanna tell me why you’re all buzzing with stressed-out energy over here?”
Holly forced her restless arms and legs to calm. Problem was, now she noticed the rapid beating of her heart and the twist of nerves in her gut. “I’m meeting my dad here in a few minutes. First time I’ve talked to him since my date with Deputy Schwartz.”
“Well, all my other tables are happily munching away, so how about I sit and distract you for a few minutes, so you don’t ruin your manicure before the good sheriff gets here?” With a raised brow, she stared pointedly at Holly’s hands.
Whoops. She flattened her palms on the table, staring at the poor thumbnail she just destroyed with her teeth. “That sounds like a good plan. How about you distract me by telling me what the hell is going on with you and Screw.” She poured cream into her coffee from the small silver pitcher, then snagged a few sugar packets.
“Ugh.” Jazz’s head whacked back against the high cushioned booth. “It’s simple, really. Screw is a man-whore. Like the biggest I’ve ever met. I consistently refuse to sleep with him, so now I’ve become his favorite challenge.”
Holly frowned. “Is he really that bad? Seems like he’s really into you. At least from what I’ve seen.”
“He’s not.” Jazz’s voice grew flat as she shook her head. “I’m probably the only one who’s turned him down in years. Look, I’m not blind. The guy is gorgeous. Sex in jeans. But he sleeps with anyone and everyone he encounters. Men, women, two at a time, three at a time, the man collects fucks like some people collect coins.”
“He’s bisexual? That’s unusual in the biker community, isn’t it?” She’d always pictured bikers as bigoted brutes who had a narrow-minded view of the world.
Jazz shrugged then snagged Holly’s coffee cup. “You mind?”
“Go for it, sister.”
After taking a sip, she leaned her head back against the booth again. “Not sure what he’d label himself, if anything. And I suppose some clubs are more backward and close-minded, but any I’ve been around have always been chill that way. Anyway, it’s not about who Screw sleeps with, I couldn’t give a shit about that, it’s about how many. I’m not interested in being a notch on his bedpost. There are so many marks on that thing already, it can’t be structurally sound. I’m too old to be used and discarded no matter how good I’m sure the sex would be. Or how long it’s been since I’ve gotten any. Which, by the way, is a very pathetic amount of time.”
Holly chuckled. “I hear that, girl. It had been quite a while for me as well. You said any club you’ve been around. Have you been connected to other clubs before?”
The light in Jazz’s eyes dimmed, and Holly immediately wanted to take the question back. She hadn’t meant to remind her friend of something painful or unpleasant.
“Just one,” Jazz said, voice low. “Before I came here.” She cleared her throat, clearly eager for a subject change, so Holly let her have it. “So, you said, it had been a while for you. Does that mean…” Jazz waggled her eyebrows up and down.
Holly’s face heated and she giggled like a freakin’ schoolgirl instead of the grown woman she was supposed to be. Just as she opened her mouth to spill the beans a, “Good morning, ladies,” came from over her head.
She glanced up into the familiar face of her father. At once, her stomach cramped, and the urge to flee the diner hit her hard. Dread was the only word she could think of to describe her thoughts about the upcoming conversation. “Hey, Dad,” she said, inwardly cursing at how timid her voice sounded. If she was going to do this, she needed to grow some lady-balls and just do it.
“Hey, sweetie.”
“Sheriff,” Jazz said as she rose from the booth. “Care for some coffee?”
With a nod, he took the seat Jazz had vacated. “Yes, please.”
After filling the sheriff’s coffee cup, Jazz said, “I’ll give you two a few seconds to look at the menu.” Bending down, she gave Holly an awkward one-armed hug in the booth. “You got this, girl,” she whispered.
“Thanks, Jazz.”
With a smile, Jazz moved on to check if her other tables needed anything.
“Friend of yours?” her father asked. He wore his uniform, looking distinguished, though tired if the dark circles under his eyes were a tell.
“Yes, I’d say we’re quickly becoming good friends. She’s great.”
“That’s good, honey. Glad you’re meeting people.”
She almost laughed out loud. He’d be singing a different tune if he knew how close Jazz was to all the members of the MC. With a heavy sigh, she sipped her coffee. Scanning the menu wasn’t necessary; she already knew she wanted the cinnamon roll waffles, but that left her without anything to focus her attention on.
