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She couldn’t help but run her hands over her ass. “Yeah, a little.”
He took her helmet from her and hung it on his handgrip, along with his. “How’s your head?”
She pulled her riding glasses off, immediately squinting into the glaring sun. “Beating like a drum. It’d be helpful if it wasn’t so bright out here.”
He grinned and took her hand, stepping up onto the sidewalk and leading her toward the door. “Maybe you’ll feel better with some food in your stomach.”
As they moved toward the door, she saw one of his club brothers standing at a nearby car parked at the end of the line of bikes. The hood was up, and he was tinkering under it. Two young pretty girls stood by watching. It was obvious to Jessie that it was their car. The man had a beard and black wraparound glasses that made him look like a member of ZZTop. Full sleeves of tattoos decorated both arms. He glanced over and nodded to Ghost, who gave him a chin lift as they walked by.
Then Ghost was holding the door open for her, and she stepped inside.
It was a small place with a cozy down home feel. The floors were linoleum, the ceilings were pressed tin, and vinyl-coated green-checkered cloths covered the tables. Jessie couldn’t help smiling. It was a greasy spoon with old-school cool. She loved the place already and murmured, “This place is totally sweet!”
The corner of Ghost’s mouth pulled up at her remark as he led her to some tables in the back that his leather-clad brothers had taken up. The men looked up at they approached.
She recognized faces from the run and from the Omaha Clubhouse last night. As they walked up she noticed a couple of the patches. Some read Louisiana, some Alabama, and some Nebraska.
Ghost glanced around the table, his eyes skating over every man. “A bunch of badasses,” he paused, his eyes landing on the last man, “and their friend, Sandman.”
The men at the table chuckled at Ghost’s joke.
The man he teased slumped his shoulders. “Aw, come on, man. Why you gotta be like that?”
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Ghost’s eyes moved from Sandman to the man in the chair in front of them and greeted him by name. “Blood.”
Jessie watched the man as he twisted to look over his shoulder. He was a good-looking man with dark hair and a close beard. But it was his eyes that were stunning. The kind that could make you feel rooted to the floor, the kind that could see into yours all the way down to your soul. Those eyes skated past Ghost to her, and then ran down over her body slowly. “Heard you had some new pussy. This her?”
Before she realized what she was doing, she slapped him. Crack, right across the face.
The table suddenly got deadly quiet.
He rose to his feet, staring down at her. “Is that all you got, pussycat?”
“Blood,” Shades growled in a warning tone.
Suddenly she felt a hand clamp around her upper arm, and Ghost pulled her behind him as he stepped nose to nose with the man.
“We gonna have a problem, Blood?”
The corner of Blood’s mouth pulled up in what she supposed could pass for a grin. “Nope. I like a woman with spunk and sass.”
Ghost nodded with a brow raised. “Good to know. Cause she’s got plenty of that.”
And then Blood’s teeth flashed as his smile widened at Ghost. A second later those eyes shifted from him to her. “Sorry, sweetness. No offense meant.” And then he was pulling his chair out and waving her into it with a flourish.
She stared at him suspiciously as if he might just pull it out from under her to have her land on the floor on her ass.
His brow arched. “What? Chivalry isn’t dead.”
She bit her lip and moved cautiously to sit on it.
He scooted the chair in a few inches causing her to grab at its base nervously, and he leaned in close, his hands still gripping tightly on the back of her chair and added, “Guys just get tired of ungrateful bitches.”
She sucked in a breath and felt Ghost sit in the chair next to her, squeezing her between him and Shades. He leaned over and half whispered, “That’s code for ‘say thank you’, sweetheart.”
She glanced up at Blood who still stood over her. “Thank you.”
