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She’d never seen the guys, but she knew all about motorcycle clubs. She’d binge watched all seven seasons of the TV show, Sons of Anarchy. There was something about the freedom bikers claimed, so different from her own regimented life, that made her envious.
She flashed back to her one and only motorcycle ride. She’d been sixteen years old and reeling from the death of her mother. Her arms wrapped around the boyfriend she was falling for and the wind in her hair made her forget the pain, at least for a moment.
The man at the front reached the restaurant entrance. When he opened the door, he turned her way, and her heart ricocheted in her chest. His kind of beautiful didn’t come around often. A little scruffy but it didn’t hurt his looks at all. Layered, dark hair brushed a strong jaw and begged her fingers to run through it. A goatee highlighted a slightly bent nose and kissable lips. His short-sleeved T-shirt put muscular arms on full display. So different from Wes, the tax attorney she’d dated, the one Daddy had liked so well.
The pounding in her head reasserted itself. She’d forgotten to take the painkillers, but maybe it was low blood sugar. This place was the best cure for that. And, hopefully, she’d have a fine-looking biker view with her dinner.
Chapter Three
The Ground Round’s wooden door slammed behind Dog and his brothers with a thud. The owner, Roger, looked up from the bar. He liked to seat his customers personally, but when he recognized the men, his face hardened into the sour look he got whenever Devil’s Seed members graced his establishment. Too bad. They couldn’t help he served the best burgers in town, and they had a hankering for one.
Now, once upon a time, Roger had made it clear he didn’t want club brothers in his restaurant. Said, in his skinny little prick way, that their ‘patronage’ was not welcome. The brothers said they’d beat his ass if he didn’t change his mind. Funny, they’d been welcomed ever since. Truth be told, Dog wouldn’t lay a hand on him. No pride in hurting a runt, but Roger didn’t need to know that.
A glance at the back of the room confirmed their favorite space was available. Dog threw up a hand in a wave. “Roger, my man. No need to seat us. We’ll take our usual table.”
Without waiting for a response, they waded through the mostly empty restaurant to a round table with four chairs. Dog took the one stuck in a corner. A habit of his, so he could always see what was coming.
A waitress, Beth, walked up to them with menus and a smile. “Hey, guys. It’s good to see you. Y’all haven’t been here in a while.”
Dog had known Beth forever. They’d gone to high school together a couple of decades earlier. “Just got back from a run,” he said.“We’re here to celebrate. Bring Luke anything he wants on me.”
Luke, on Dog’s right, was the club’s in-house computer genius, always hacking one site or another and crowing about it. The brothers gave him shit, but he took it with a smile.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked.
A grin lit Luke’s face. “My engagement. Sophie said yes.”
Fucking crazy how happy he was.
Beth smiled as she tugged out her pad and pen. “That’s fantastic. She’s a lucky girl. What’ll it be?”
They placed their beer orders, and she hurried to the bar.
Cutter, seated across from Dog, started in on Luke with his usual bullshit. The ugly scar on his face, leftover from a nasty altercation the club had avenged years ago, twisted in a smirk. “Now, you know sex ain’t hot once you’re married. You might want a lengthy engagement to keep it stiff as long as possible.”
Spike, on Dog’s left, shook his head. “Nope. He’ll just come to Sapphire when he needs to regain some wood.”
Dog laughed. Spike would know. He’d earned his road name as a prospect when he couldn’t go near the strip club without, well, a certain body partspiking. He’d gotten himself under control and managed Sapphire for the club—their president’s perverse idea of funny.
Beth returned with the King of Beers, the only thing a good American drinks, and took their food orders. Once she left, Cutter held up his bottle. "To Luke. May your old lady's pussy dry up and your cock shrink from boredom."
The toast for every newly engaged brother. Leave it to Cutter to be so original.
Dog smirked as he clinked their bottles and then brought his to his lips. The restaurant door opened, and a stunning woman walked in, stopping him mid-sip. Blond hair, nice rack, legs sadly hidden in pants, but they went on forever and ended in a great pair of ‘fuck me’ stilettos. Those shoes would be at home at Sapphire, though it was clear she wouldn’t be caught dead in a strip club. Class rolled off this babe, probably money from the look of her clothes, and she had to be from out of town—Dog knew everyone in this shithole, and he’d never seen her.
Roger swooped in, all smiles, and she returned one of her own, drawing Dog’s eyes to her mouth. Sweet Jesus. Images of her on her knees between his legs, ready to wrap those full lips around his cock exploded in his mind. Said body part nudged his jeans zipper. Dog shifted in his seat.
Spike elbowed his arm. "What's got your attention?" He squinted over his shoulder. "Oh. Piece of ass. I should'a known. All you ever think about.”
"Like you're any different," Dog grumbled, not taking his attention from the blonde.
Spike thrust his thumb toward the woman. "Dog's ready to fire up again."
Cutter and Luke shifted to get an eyeful.
"Mine," Dog growled, not looking at them.
Laughter rippled from his brothers. Dog didn’t give a fuck because the owner had his hand on her back as he guided her to a seat, touching what already felt like Dog’s property. Dog had to squash the urge to rip Roger’s appendage off and shove it up his ass. And not the one that touched her back.
