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“And you look very handsome doing it,” I said.
Alexandra snorted a laugh. “Oh, we’re going to get along just fine. I’m mixing some drinks in the back if you want to come along.”
I glanced at Tank but he waved me off.
“Go. I always hide out in the kitchen at these things anyway. Have fun.”
I considered staying with him and taking a rain check on Alexandra’s offer. The whole point of coming today was to spend as much time as I could with Tank. But this club was his family and I wanted to get to know them, too.
So I let Alexandra lead me out of the kitchen, through the bar, and out onto a patio. A handful of other women lingered there, giving each other manicures, or cozied up with one or two of the bikers I’d seen in the bar earlier. Diablo, maybe. Or Axel. I couldn’t remember.
“Pick your poison, sweetie,” Alexandra said, gesturing to a small table with an array of alcohol on it.
I faltered. I didn’t have much experience with alcohol, except for the fruit wines we sold at the greenhouse.
“Surprise me,” I said.
“Comin’ right up.”
As Alexandra set about mixing a drink for me, Brewer emerged from the bar. He came to stand behind her, looping an arm around her middle and pressing a kiss to her shoulder. He was easily twice her size and she leaned back against his chest with the comfort and familiarity of someone who knew her trust was in good hands.
She turned her head and kissed his cheek before sliding away from him and passing my drink to me.
“Pineapple mimosa,” she said, gesturing for us to sit in two nearby chairs. “Thought you might like something fresh and light to get you started. You don’t strike me as a hard liquor type anyway.”
I took a sip. Sweet, sharp flavor burst on my tongue. It wasn’t the earthy, understated tones of the cherry wine I loved at home. This had zing to it.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Years of experience tending bar,” Alexandra replied. “You learn to recognize the ones who live for that burn of whiskey or bourbon.”
“How long have you been with the Alpha Riders?”
She shook her head. “Barely a year. I’ve worked in bars for most of my life but it’s different with these boys. They keep their hands to themselves for one thing. And most of them just act like pesky little brothers.”
I gestured to Brewer who now stood at the barbecue, his back turned to us.
“Except that one,” I said.
A soft smile touched Alexandra’s lips. It was obvious from the adoration in her eyes that Brewer was special. I felt the same way when I looked at Tank.
“It’s not always an easy road,” she said. “But I feel like I can weather anything as long as I have him by my side.”
We talked like that for over an hour, Alexandra refilling my drink when I got too low. A gentle buzz began to warm my body, making me feel relaxed. More of the club had drifted out onto the patio now, swapping stories, laughing, or clustered around a game of cards.
“Who wants to play strip poker?” someone shouted, followed by a chorus of agreements.
I quickly made my exit, slipping back into the bar to find Tank. He was still in the kitchen, his hands dusted with flour. Aligned on the counter were neat rows of golden shortcake with slices of red strawberries and dollops of cloud-white cream.
“I didn’t know you could cook.” I swiped a cream-flecked strawberry and popped it into my mouth. Sweet-tart juice burst on my tongue. “And you do it really, really well.”
He shrugged. “There’s a rhythm to it. I’ve always found it soothing.”
I leaned against the counter, watching him whisk the cream, slice the little cakes open and arrange the strawberries. For a man so big, he was surprisingly gentle.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the threat of danger hanging over our heads. But a hot burn of want blazed through my body for him.
Then Tank caught me staring. I gazed up at him, wide eyed, my lips pressed shut. A flush of warmth crept up my neck, from the mimosas or Tank’s attention, I couldn’t tell. I glanced toward the kitchen door to make sure we were alone then I stepped closer to him, wrapping my fingers around his wrist.
