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His eyes glittered with mirth. “Just jot your number here, pretty please.” He tapped the napkin again.
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest. Give a stranger my number? Did I look gullible? I practiced what I preached to my kindergarteners—stranger-danger and don’t fall for the lost puppy trick.
“Aw, fuck,” he muttered.
“Tell your prez to find someone else. I’m sure there are plenty of otherhot little numbers,” I made air quotes again, “around who’d thank their lucky stars Mr. Biker President wanted their digits.”
I picked up the pen, and in capital letters, I wrote: NOT. INTERESTED. Then I waved the white paper in front of the errand boy’s face. With a snarl to his lip, he snatched it from my hand and stalked off.
Victory!
I smiled at Tara and Kim. “That’s how you do it, girls.” They both clapped and bumped shoulders with me. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. It was a phenomenal feeling.
A crash from the back corner made me jump. I turned around as the prez stormed out of the bar, leaving his chair tipped on its side. The two guys with him were smirking at each other. When their gazes landed on me, they each blew me a kiss on their way out the door.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so victorious. I got a weird twinge in my stomach.
“You sure showed them, honey.” Kim nudged my elbow. “Proud of you.”
“Except she’s missing out on a good time with the prez. Don’t you think it’s time you get back in the saddle and start dating again? Surely you’re over that cheating asshole.” Tara arched a suspicious brow.
“I’m over Dane. Have been for a long time. I just don’t trust men.” Especially a man who thinks he can demand my number as if it’s owed to him.
The bleach blonde huffed behind me, cleaning up the mess left in the prez’s wake. I sort of felt bad for her. She appeared to want him and had probably been with him a time or two… or ten. I found myself sizing her up. She was curvy with a nice pair up top. Too much eye makeup and bright pink lips—but whatever. To each their own.
Tara shrugged. “So? You don’t have to trust him to have fun with him.”
“Uh-uh. I want more than what he can give me. Guys like them don’t have girlfriends, wives, or committed relationships. They have one-night stands and fuck-buddies.” I wouldn’t be either.
“How do you know so much about bikers? First, the cut and now their relationship preferences.” Tara stuck a cocktail straw into her mouth and slurped down her screwdriver.
“I don’t really know much. Back home, Toby’s best friend’s dad was a biker. His wife had left him because he’d cheated on her. I’d overheard my mom and dad talking about it. Dad said outlaw bikers don’t practice monogamy. Of course, back then, I was like nine or ten and didn’t know anything about anything.” But I did now, hence not being interested.
“Well, don’t let Dane screw with your head.”
Too late. He already did.
“Some of them are monogamous. I think if you’re an old lady, it means something special? Kinda like marriage.” Kim’s lips twisted like she was thinking hard.
“How do you know about old ladies?” I asked.
“Sons of Anarchy. But if I remember correctly, the prez on the show cheated on his old lady too. Stay away from bikers, honey. You’ll only end up with a broken heart.”
Okay then. Never saw the show, but Kim probably knew more than me on the subject, if perchance there was some truth in the TV series. Kim also had first-hand experience with a cheating husband, much like I had with Dane. I had dodged a bullet, unlike sweet Mama Kim.
“I take it we won’t be coming back here for karaoke again?” Ray shoveled another handful of popcorn in his mouth.
“Nope. Not me. Once was enough. Bastion might be too rough for us. We should stick to our own township.” I glanced around the bar. People seemed to be having a good time laughing and drinking. No other bikers were around. I probably would’ve come back if it weren’t for fear of seeing Mr. Biker President again.
From then on, I’d stay in Winters where bikers didn’t regularly roam the streets—and a muscular, hot-tempered, brooding outlaw didn’t have his sights on me like I was a piece of meat he wanted to chow down on.
He sure was pretty to look at, though. And my silky thong was totally drenched.
4
Storm
This time of the year hurt like a bitch. Old wounds, that never fully healed, ripped open. The guilt I carried every single day made it difficult to breathe. I hated who I was and what I’d done.
