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A few minutes later, Rooster pulled into the parking lot of his clubhouse. Above the door, a neon sign read Alpha Riders MC.
I really should have stopped at another gas station. I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have never reconnected with Rooster. I knew better than to spend my time at biker bars.
And yet, when Rooster held the door open and gestured me inside, I didn’t hesitate to step in. This was familiar territory—the smell of stale beer and cigarettes, pool tables, dim lighting, the grit of an electric guitar squealing from a radio’s speakers somewhere.
“Boys,” Rooster said, addressing the half dozen men scattered throughout the room. “I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Lou. We knew each other back home in Baton Rouge. Stirred up all kinds of trouble.”
Someone whistled.
“I bet you did,” someone else said.
Rooster placed his hand against my lower back and his jaw twitched. Clearly that greeting had irritated him even though it hadn’t bothered me at all. Didn’t he remember I’d received the same greeting at his clubhouse in Louisiana? It was a rite of passage, a sign of approval, and I was flattered to receive it.
“Behave yourselves,” he added, his voice stern.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, boys,” I said.
Rooster gestured around the room, introducing each man.
“This useless sack of shit over here is Mack. That big man in the corner is our Vice President, Tank. Then we’ve got Red who barely speaks two words together. And our hot-headed young Prospect, Diablo. There are a few others but they’re probably busy. You’ll have to meet them another time.”
Mack approached with a smile that he had to know would melt the panties off a woman in a heartbeat. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles.
“You are far too pretty to be hanging out with a redneck like Rooster, little lady,” he said with a thick Irish brogue. “You’re welcome to come sit with me, love. We could stir up some trouble of our own.”
Rooster made a noise that I could have sworn was a growl. He’d never been this overtly protective before but I certainly wasn’t complaining. It almost made me want to get him jealous just to rile him up. Would he hold me a little tighter? Would he pull me away from his club brothers so he could keep me all to himself?
I shouldn’t be thinking that way. Rooster and I had parted ways years ago. Just because our paths had crossed now didn’t mean a damn thing. We had no claim on each other. Not to mention, I had baggage of my own that I didn’t want to saddle him with anyway.
Tank lifted his chin in greeting. True to his name, he really was built like a tank—broad all over with tattoo sleeves down both arms. Despite his intimidating appearance, he had an easy smile that gave him a soothing, calm, and in-control air.
“Can I get you something to drink? I imagine you could use it after spending time with that Southern windbag.”
“Just a cold beer please,” I replied. “I’ll be getting back on the road after this.”
“Windbag?” Rooster protested lightly. “Lou is the one you have to watch out for. I don’t see you fixing me up a drink.”
“She’s easier on the eyes than you are.”
I laughed, taking a seat on one of the bar stools.
“I see there’s no mercy here.”
“None at all.” Rooster settled onto the stool beside me.
With his long legs, his knee naturally bumped against mine. At one time, his hand would have been on my thigh, sneaking under my skirt if I was wearing one, teasing at me. But now, when we accidentally touched, he shifted away, keeping six inches of careful space between us. I knew it was necessary. I knew he had to do it. But it still made me ache.
Tank popped the top off a beer and slid it across the countertop to me.
“If you don’t mind me getting nosy, how did you and Rooster meet? You look a little too wholesome for the likes of him.”
I hummed in thought with a playful tilt to my head.
“Don’t let the face fool you. I’ve always had a soft spot for bad boys.”
“Damn near gave your daddy a heart attack,” Rooster put in.
“Yeah, well, he wanted me to be a sweet, innocent country girl and I missed that mark by a mile.”
