Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
The bartender gives Sandra in her tight, shiny black dress a passing glance and then winks at the bride-to-be, my cousin. “Sugar, we have it all.” He gives us an appraising look, judging us, reading our overly done outfits for this bar. We should be club hopping in Dallas with these outfits instead of a biker bar, so he asks, “Now, how many cosmos am I mixing up?”
“We all want one,” the bitch answers for us.
I raise my hand and softly say, “I can’t have any. I’m the designated driver.”
“Would you like a Coke?” he offers me with no condescension in his voice.
“That sounds good to me.” I smile at him and he returns it, but there’s something in his appearance that is too familiar. It’s warm and inviting.
“Goodness, look at those muscles and tats. Seriously, Daddy.” God, Sandra doesn’t quit, even though she’s banging my cousin and probably several other people.
“Thanks,” he says, giving her that charming smile while doing some cool bartender-pouring skills.
“Boss,” someone calls him from the other end of the bar toward the entrance. We all look, and he’s a hot biker guy. No guy is as hot as Dylan, but I’m sure this guy has plenty of ladies following him, and I don’t doubt Sandra’s about to open her drunk, slutty mouth.
“Give me a minute,” he tells the guy.
“Ooh, he’s hot too. Damn. I’ve got a hot daddy and a sexy biker. Talk about a Sandra sandwich. Are you boys up for it?” She leans toward the guy that just came in.
“Sorry, not interested,” they both say in unison, and I have to bite back a laugh. If there’s one person I truly don’t like, it’s her. She’s the one who told everyone about me getting fired for fucking.
“Sam, can you handle these ladies when you’re done? Blade and I have some things to discuss.”
“Boss, I don’t need anything, but I wanted to show my pretty girl, here, around.” I don’t miss the tension, and that’s when I notice something in the older man’s expression. The look of pure jealous possessiveness. I’ve seen that same damn expression before. In fact, I saw it earlier today when I left the condo. That’s who this bartender reminds me of—Dylan. They could be father and son.
“Hello, I’m Emiliano’s mother.” I listen to their conversation, even though I try not to, but I want to know more about Dylan’s older doppelgänger. I wonder if it’s just one of those rare coincidences, or if his dad really works down here.
“No, you can’t be his mother. You’re too fucking young.” Wow, he’s flirting hard, but I can’t blame him because she doesn’t look old. I wonder how old the son is.
“Thank you. It’s the lighting here. It’s lying to you, because I’m an old lady,” the woman says.
“Seriously. Our drinks. We need to go to another town. I heard there were hot biker guys here, but damn, they are into old hags.” His head whips toward Sandra, and he hits her with the dirtiest scowl that would scare anyone. She flinches and stumbles backward off the stool, nearly hitting her ass on the floor. Holy hell, it’s like looking at an older Dylan.
Maybe I just have Dylan on my brain.
“Get out—now,” he barks out, anger radiating from him.
“Shit, Sandy,” my cousin Lillian hisses at her bestie.
“Now,” he roars. He gives a look toward the man at the door, and I get out of my seat, grabbing my purse and light wrap. He tells the bouncer guy, “Make sure they are safely escorted out.”
He turns to me with soft, kind eyes and says, “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. She can be a real piece of work when she’s drunk,” I say.
“Please be careful.” He seems to be only addressing me again. I like him. He’s kind and respectful to the right women.
Sandy gives him and the woman he’s flirting with a glare before she moves toward the door. I roll my eyes at her behind her back.
I give a low, apologetic wave as I walk the drunk girls out of the bar. “We will, as soon as we get her back to Dallas.”
“Good.” He nods and goes back to his business while I lead all the wasted girls into Dylan’s Mercedes.
“Put on some good music. I want to jam out, and then we need a better place. I can’t believe we drove all the way out here for nothing.”
“I heard there were hot bikers here, and there were, but someone had to freaking ruin it with her big mouth,” my cousin’s other friend Erica said.
I check my rearview mirror, and I catch a sedan I thought was following us earlier to another bar in Dallas. Did Lillian’s fiancé send someone to watch us? He can be a bit jealous, but he trusts her. Maybe he’s worried about her safety, or maybe I’m just crazy.