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The women all smile and greet each other with hugs as if they haven’t seen each other in ages. Morgan and Des do this all the time, so I suppose it’s normal female behavior. Either that or they are happy to hit the ground after a ride. Whatever it is, I don’t give a shit. I feel too off balance from having Pixie so close.
As soon as they stop, Ice wraps his arm casually around Morgan, settling his hand in the back pocket of her jeans. Hammer walks behind Desirae with his arms wrapped around her on both sides. Awkwardly, I slip Paisley’s hand in mine to the feel of a zing of electricity. The charge only makes me squeeze her hand, not wanting to ever let go.
It’s strange, the sensations I feel whenever Paisley is around.
We walk into Billy Bob’s Barbeque and all eyes turn to us. I’m not surprised. It’s not every day you have a group of bikers walk into a restaurant with women at their side.
The hostess seats us quickly around two tables that they pushed together for us near the back of the restaurant. I don’t know if they are trying to keep us separated from the rest of their customers, but it doesn’t matter because the positioning allows Ice, Hammer, and myself to keep the whole place under surveillance.
The waitress comes out quickly to take our orders, and I can tell she’s friendly but nervous. Looking at her name tag, I see that it’s the same waitress that Screech mentioned talking to before. Chrissy.
“What can I get for you all?” she asks us in a sweet southern twang.
Pixie and I let everyone order before us. I’m surprised she doesn’t cringe at the meat orders. It sort of impresses me. Then the waitress turns to us, and Pixie orders a salad. She doesn’t bother to hide her surprise when I do the same. I still can’t stomach the idea of eating meat. Just the thought of it makes me think about finding Cook’s victim in the steel drum barrel, boiled; or Big Jim, skewered like he was some fucking piece of meat to put on the grill. I fight back the urge to vomit even thinking about it.
Salad, freshly green leaves, it has an entirely new appeal.
~Paisley~
Riding on his motorcycle was exhilarating. The way he showed up and said “let’s go” was thrilling and surprising. I didn’t know what to expect. Then, when he took my hand in his, I felt the spark and smiled inside.
Even though I still feel eyes on me, whenever Coal is around, it quickly disappears. There is a safety that encompasses me whenever he’s present.
The guys all look around continually scanning the space. Morgan and Des aren’t even aware it seems.
When he orders a salad, I want to tell him it’s okay to order a steak. However, I decide this isn’t the time or the place to have that kind of conversation. I expected the guys to give him a hard time for his order, but they don’t.
“I think Scotty is on something,” Des says to me while we are waiting for our meals.
“He’s a lot more aggressive lately. Yanessa, the new spin instructor, she said he threw a barbell into a mirror the other day. He lied, though, and said it slipped out of his grip because he was lifting too heavy a weight.”
“I don’t know how y’all can spend so much time at the gym,” Morgan pipes in. “I don’t like to be around a bunch of people and feel like I’m being watched. I only go when Drill Sergeant Bust Everyone’s Balls says it’s time.”
We all laugh.
“I make sure you get plenty of cardio, and burn calories, all between the sheets, baby,” Ice remarks proudly.
“And the kitchen table, the counters, the couch, the floor,” Hammer goads his friend.
It’s easy going being at dinner with everyone and even Coal seems relaxed compared to his usual on guard temperament. The guys are hyper-aware of our surroundings, but they are still engaged in our conversations.
So this is what it feels like to be with a biker … protected, but still a priority. No wonder, Morgan and Des are so happy.
Excusing myself to the restroom, I decide Coal could use a little fun in his life.
As soon as I get around the corner to the hallway where the restrooms are, I see our waitress at her station, refilling drinks, and wave her over.
“Is everything okay?” she asks politely.
“Oh, it’s great. I was wondering if I could buy a piece of that pecan pie separate and have you add a candle.”
She smiles. “Someone’s birthday?”
“Yup, the bald man in our party. Can you possibly sing to him?”
“Happy to,” she replies, and then I take off to the restroom so no one can question what I’m doing.
