AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Erotic memories swept through her, and heat warmed her face from her neck to her cheeks. She really needed to get out of there and gripped the stall’s door handle. Except she slipped again and Hawk held out his hand. “Let me help you, Izzy.”
She wriggled her gloved fingers. “You don’t want to do that.”
He chuckled and turned toward the sink to turn on the water. “Hopefully I racked up points for the offer.”
“What kind of points?”She found stability on her feet, took the bucket’s handle, and used her forearm to wipe the sweat off her brow. Then she met his gaze in the mirror. As usual, tendrils of her long red hair had escaped her braiding efforts.
He held her gaze while he washed his hands. His eyes narrowed, and his smile became more... seductive. “The kind of points that add up to you letting me back in your bed tonight.”
His voice was steady and low, as if telling her he was going to change the oil in her car. But the reverb in his tone told her he wanted her naked, in his bed,now.And, of course, more memories besieged her. His powerful thighs spread hers apart as he drove into her. His biceps bulged as he held her up against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist. The way he held her waist when she straddled him so he could guide her up and down his erection. Even the gentle way he caressed her breasts.
She blinked a few times and then raised an eyebrow, hoping to look stern and decisive. “Considering how many beers you’ve had, you’ll be lucky if you can call yourself an Uber.”
“I promise, darlin’.” He winked at her and dried his hands under the air dryer. “I could drink three times as much and still leave you wanting more in the morning.”
Which she knew, for a fact, to be true.
Before she could respond, thedoor swung open and a black and white cat slinked in. Vixen, the bar’s feral cat who only showed up when it suited her, wound around Izzy’s black boot-encased ankles and jumped onto the counter. She hissed at Hawk and licked her paws, not caring that she cleaned herself next to the white sink covered with rusty brown stains caused by water with a too-high iron content.
Hawkgrabbedthe cat by the back of the neck,held her against his chest, and rubbed her head. “I haven’t forgotten, Izzy.”
She swallowed hard. “Forgotten what?”
He bent in close to whisper in her ear, “How much you loved being in my bed, in my arms, wrapped around my naked body. Whatever is going on with you, you can trust me.”
Actually, she couldn’t trust anyone. And what she had to do in the next few weeks, she had to do alone. Before she could think of a sassy response—the kind she was actually terrible at—he kissed her cheek and carried the cat out of the bathroom.
The door closed, and she released a deep breath and sagged againstthecounter. While Hawk wasincredibly sexy and incredible in bed, she had to keep her mind man-free. Too bad she hadn’t made that commitment to herself before arriving in Ravensburg. Getting involved with anyone at this point—especially a sexy, tattooed biker—would cause more damage she couldn’t fix.
Another man in a Devil’s Renegade cut came into the bathroom and she left,carrying the mop in one hand and the full bucket in the other. The bucket of dirty water was heavier than it looked. Since the plastic protector that covered the handle’s wire handle had disappeared long ago, it cut through her gloves and dug into her palms. She shuffled along the dark hallway that only had one workinglight bulb, shifting the bucket and mop from one hand to the other when the pain became unbearable.If one of her Harvard professors had told her that one day she’d be working in a dive biker bar, deep in the Virginia mountains, she would’ve laughed and laughed and laughed.
She’d not known, while in that pampered enclave, how fragile her situation really was.
Some light came from the other end of the corridor that led into the bar. Music and male voices sounded louder now. That meant she needed to hustle because she and Tish, the owner of the Rebel’s Refuge Biker Bar, were the only two waitresses/bartenders working tonight. And if J.R., their fastidious cook, felt like the food wasn’t being sent out on time, he might quit. Again.
Once at the utility room, she shouldered the swinging door open and entered. It took her a moment to drop the mop and bucket and find the string that turned on the overhead light. She emptied the pail and washed out the rag, rubber gloves, and mop in the large sink stuck between the stacked washer/dryer and the hot water heater. Then she took off her dirty apron and threw it into the washing machine tub.
“Please let there be a clean apron.” Once she washed and dried her hands, and attempted to fix her braid without a mirror, she rummaged through a plastic bin filled with folded laundry. One of the few redeeming things about the bar, other than J.R.’s fabulous food and Tish’s ability to keep everyone’s shit to herself, was that both of her co-workers were clean freaks.
“Thank you, Tish.” She unfolded a black half-apron and tied it around her waist. Then she smoothed down the slim black T-shirt with the bar’s white logo of Death riding a motorcycle printed on front. A loud crash came from the main bar, and she hurried back to help Tish. It was only eleven p.m., and the bar didn’t close until two. She still had hours left to pour, serve, and clean up after the Devil’s Renegades. Hopefully without getting her ass pinched, her breasts squeezed, or seeing Hawk again.
She entered the bar just as a huge man with blood on his face flew through the air in front of her. She backed up against the wall, as far away from the blood as possible. The huge bald man landed on a table, breaking all four of its legs and landing on the floor. The huge bald man, wearing a prospect patch on his vest, pulled himself to his feet, raised his fists in the air, and smiled, showing off two missing front teeth and his broken nose. At least thirty other men in the room roared with laughter and shouted, “Cheery! Cheery! Cheery!”
Isolde hurried over to where Tish stood behind the bar, setting up a long line of shot glasses. While it wasn’t much safer back here, at least the marble bar would take some of the force out of other flying bodies.”What’s going on?” She had to yell at Tish over the loud male voices.
Tish pointed to the huge bald man who was now in the center of the room, downing a bottle of vodka in one gulp. “Cheery is no longer a prospect,” she yelled back. “He just became a fully patched member of the Devil’s Renegades.”
“Great.”
Tish laughed at the obvious sarcasm in Isolde’s voice and handed her a bottle. Someone had turned up the dark country music, punctuated by droning guitars and heavy fiddle-playing, and she poured tequila into the shot glasses while ignoring Hawk who leaned against the old jukebox on the other side of the room. Lara, a blond woman in a micro black leather mini and red tube top that barely hid her nipples, was trying to talk to him. But he kept his attention on Isolde. When he noticed her glance in his direction, he nodded once.
She hated that she wanted to break the tequila bottle over Lara’s head.
Isolde turned her back on him and tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin beneath the bar. But not fast enough, apparently, since Tish moved closer and said, “What’s up with you and Hawk Mosby?”
She forced herself not to look back at Hawk. “Just another Saturday night proposition in a dirty men’s room while I held a bucket of vomit.” She’d never shared her sexual adventures with Hawk with anyone and wasn’t about to start now.
Tish laughed as she rinsed glasses in the sink beneath the bar and loaded them into the small dishwasher below. “You know, a quick-and-dirty one-night stand isn’t forbidden. A hot tussle beneath the sheets with a man like Hawk might clear your head and give you clarity on your... uh... situation.”
