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By Friday, I hadn’t seen much of Bull, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined the crazy attraction between us. Whenever he came into the clubhouse, he was flanked by bikers, or busy talking on his phone, and he would walk past me and give me an occasional wink that would heat my face and send a throb to my traitorous clit. Other days, there was barely any acknowledgment from him, making me feel as if I was a part of the furniture. At first, I thought it was just because he was busy and preoccupied because everybody, it seemed, wanted a piece of him. But when it continued, I realized it wasn’t because he was busy, it was because he was an asshole.
It made me think back to our date and made me grateful that I hadn’t given into my urges that night and slept with him.
Because now I appeared to be invisible.
I didn’t like it.
And for some stupid reason, I didn’t like it…a lot.
I mean, he was my boss and I shouldn’t see him as anything more than the man who signed my paycheck.
Yet it didn’t stop me from thinking about him. Fantasizing about him. Like when he walked past the bar with Ruger and Maverick this afternoon, and I couldn’t stop staring at him just because he was wearing a white t-shirt under his cut, and I had never seen him in a white t-shirt before.
And because, dear God, Bull in a white t-shirt was pure porn for warm-blooded females.
My thoughts got the better of me and I couldn’t help but wonder about how his body looked beneath that white t-shirt, his Kings of Mayhem cut, and black slacks.
I couldn’t help but wonder how it moved.
How it flexed.
How it fucked.
On the other side of the bar, Cherry cleared her throat, and I almost dropped the beer bottle I was opening as I tore my eyes off my boss to look at her.
She raised an eyebrow at me and gave me a knowing smile.
“What?” I shrugged, trying to hide my embarrassment. “So, shoot me, I’m a sucker for a guy in a white t-shirt.”
She shook her head. “Dear God, it’s only taken you a week.”
“For what?”
“For you to fall under the spell of our enigmatic leader.” She grinned. “But, honey, you gotta get in line. And there’s a lot of women in front of you.”
I shook my head. “Hell, Cherry, he’s my boss, and I’ve got no intention of getting hung up on him or anyone. But just because I’m on a diet, doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu.”
She laughed as she walked off. “Sure, just keep telling yourself that.”
But I was serious.
Deadly serious.
Later that afternoon, I was drying glasses fresh from the steamer, while Vader and Joker debated some facts about Star Wars.
“George Lucas didn’t know Darth Vader was going to be Luke Skywalker’s father when he wrote Star Wars,” Vader said matter-of-factly. “That didn’t come out until he wrote the script for Empire Strikes Back.”
“He must’ve known, though, because Vader means father in Dutch,” Joker replied.
“Pure coincidence,” Vader said, peeling the label from his beer bottle and letting it drop onto the shiny wood.
Joker didn’t look convinced. “A pretty big coincidence.”
“The proof is in the movie. Remember the conversation between Obi-Wan and Skywalker, when Obi-Wan explains to him that Darth Vader killed his father? If Lucas knew Darth Vader was Luke’s father during Star Wars then that conversation really doesn’t make any sense.”
“Lucas did that on purpose. It was a lead up to the twist,” Joker insisted.
“No, no, no. Lucas turned it into the twist when he wrote Empire Strikes Back.”
“I don’t believe you,” Joker said, taking a swig from his beer bottle.
Vader brushed him off. “I think I would know.”
“Why? Because you wear a Star Wars shirt under your cut? You’re full of shit.”
Any second now, this was going to get out of hand.
“I don’t want to play favorites here, boys,” I said, leaning down on the bar in front of them. “But Vader is right. George Lucas didn’t plan on Luke Skywalker being Darth Vader’s son when they made Star Wars. He didn’t work that out until Empire Strikes Back.”
Both bikers turned to look at me.
“You know Star Wars?” Vader asked.
I stood up straight and grinned. “Three-time Comic-Con Princess Leia, at your service.”
Both bikers continued to stare at me.
“Is it strange that I have an overwhelming urge to kiss you?” Vader asked.
“I’d just as soon kiss a Wookiee,” I said with a wink, quoting a line from the movie.
Vader looked like he’d just seen heaven. “That’s it, I’m going to marry you. Today.”
“How about you just do me a favor and stop peeling beer labels all over the bar instead?” I swiped the pile of torn paper into my palm and walking over to the trashcan.
