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“Well, well, well,” Greta Titsworth crows in her thick, Wisconsin accent. “Haven’t seen that pretty face around here in a long time.”
I take in the tall brunette owner of the restaurant and smile. I’d always liked Greta, even though her eyes always seemed to linger just a little too long on my chest. “Hey, girl. How have you been?”
“I’ve lost thirty pounds. My girls still sit where they should—” she puffs out her chest, “—and I almost have the sleeve completed on my arm.”
I take in the colorful tattoos adorning nearly every inch of her porcelain skin. “Wow. Those are incredible.”
“I know. If you’re ever looking to get one, I can get you in with my guy on a friends and family discount. You just let me know.” She winks. “Now, you here alone or meetin’ somebody?”
Over her shoulder, I see TK approaching. “Meeting somebody.”
Turning, she takes in TK and all his gorgeous physique. “Holy shit, girl. You ridin’ that baloney pony?”
“Well?” he teases, stopping next to her. “Answer her.”
Greta looks at me and arches her brow, knowing she’s got me.
“No, I’m not riding that baloney pony,” I grouse, rolling my eyes.
TK bursts into laughter, and Greta’s shoulders shake with mirth, always happy to make someone squirm. I try to squeeze past her, but she grabs my arm and tells me, “You make him work for it, baby girl.” With that, she releases me and scurries off to mortify another paying customer.
“She’s quite the character,” TK notes, leading me to the back of the restaurant where the group has pulled a number of tables together to fit them all.
“She’s crazy,” I tell him.
As we approach, TK rushes around me and pulls out an empty chair for me to sit in.Who knew bikers were chivalrous?
“Hey, Cora,” Lindsey coos, followed by greetings from the rest of them.
“Hi, everyone.” Taking my seat, I gape up at TK when he pushes it in for me, then drops into the chair next to mine.
Picking up the menu, I browse through the options as the boys talk about the long trip home, and about someone named GP whose ass Judge wants to kick. But even as I try to take in what they’re saying, my head swims with TK’s proximity.
His bicep brushes against mine every time he moves, and his scent of deodorant, soap, and a mild, musky cologne is intoxicating.
Fat, mouthy bartender.
He’s just being nice, Cora. Don’t get attached.
Just then, TK looks over at me and smiles. “You look great today.”
Fat, mouthy bartender.
I smile at his unnecessary politeness and look away, joining the conversation the girls are having about dreading their asses falling asleep on the motorcycles.
TK’s hand comes down to rest on my knee, causing heat to pool between my legs. When his thumb swipes back and forth on my bare skin, my heart takes off at a gallop.
He leans forward, his lips in my hair, and whispers, “You look better than great. You look fucking gorgeous.”
My breath hitches in my throat. Turning toward him, his eyes stare into mine with far more intensity than I was expecting at a breakfast table full of hungry bikers. “Thank you.”
His eyes drop to my lips and we stay that way, frozen, our noses barely an inch apart.
“Jesus,” Karma mutters from the other end of the table. “Get a room.”
Lindsey swats his arm, but the mood is already broken. Well, kind of.
The waitress comes and takes our orders, and for the next forty-five minutes, I forget that I just met these people. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have actual friends. Hell, for the first time in forever, I feel like I haveactualfriends.
