Page 80 of Kings Don't Break
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t go streaking butt-naked in the snow.”
Cheers ring around the bar room when we walk through the door. We’re two of the only sober people in the saloon. Most of the guys have been celebrating for hours with beer steins clutched in their hands and a pink tint to their cheeks. A few even wear Santa hats perched on their heads.
Our first stop is a couple we’ve slowly started pairing off with.
Mason and Sydney are lost in each other. They’re standing in the open space of the bar room almost as if they’re dancing. Except Mason doesn’t dance. The few others surrounding them do their own version of dancing while Sydney sways her hips and gyrates against Mason.
He’s enjoying her moves. His arms wrap around her and pull her up against him. It takes them both a second to notice Blake and I walking up.
“You came!” Sydney cries out with an excited smile. “Merry Christmas!”
“Kori needed a night out,” Blake says.
“Well, enjoy yourselves. I know I am.” Mason draws Sydney even closer, going in for a deep kiss.
Blake and I share a glance before the next song starts up. Our hands clasp together and within seconds, we’re laughing and doing our own version of a dance. I’m not the best on the dance floor and neither is Blake, but we have our fun—neither of us give a damn who’s watching.
Something that’s always been what sets us apart from others.
By the time we’ve danced through a third song, Blake slides an arm around my shoulders and steers us toward the bar counter for drinks.
It’s my first real moment to admire the Steel Saloon for what it is.
The biker bar might overwhelm outsiders when visiting, but I’ve always found the saloon inviting in its own way. The bar’s practically a relic in time with its bikini beer model posters and cracked leather seating. The floor’s a little sticky and there’s never any natural light. Just the neon beer signs that flash from every corner of the bar. All things that make the Steel Saloon what it is.
In the ten years I’ve been gone, it hasn’t changed much. A fact that I find a little comforting.
Blake and I slide onto side-by-side stools. Mick looks like an ancient relic with his bushy white brows and shrinking stature. His jaw drops open at the sight of us.
“If it isn’t Pulsboro’s most infamous duo—Blake Cash and Korine McKibbens,” he says with a hint of pride. “I never thought I’d see the day again.”
My lips curl, almost channeling my inner embarrassed teenager. “You’ve seen me plenty of times at the Chop Shop in recent weeks.”
“I have. But that’s different. This,” he says, gesturing to the two of us, “is like old times. ’Cept now you two are all grown up.”
Blake and I share in a glance at each other. “Mick, are you trying to make things awkward?”
“Would fit with being teenagers, wouldn’t it?” he cackles. He slings his used dish rag over his shoulder and winks at both of us. “Tell you what? I’ll fix you the oldie but goodie—two Dr Peppers coming right up.”
I shift in my stool for an amused look at him. He catches on without me having to even utter a word and shakes his head side to side like he’s letting me know he gets it.
“Mick’s never changing. If I’d known he’d make us feel like we’re fifteen again, I might’ve thought twice about tonight’s party.”
“It’s okay. I kind of like the reminder. It’s fun to think back.” I flash him a smile in earnest that feels like a mistake the moment he casts me a sideways look, and in typical Blake Cash fashion, his deep blue eyes gleam.
Hypnotizing and playful just like they’ve always been.
The nerves living in my belly at any given time flutter away. A reaction I should be used to by now after spending half my life as the best friend of the town’s unofficial heartthrob. Instead, I’m powerless to stop the fluttering.
I can’t squash any of the reactions Blake draws out of me—not the racing heartbeat or the stupid little smile my lips spread into when meeting his eyes.
Not the heat that fires up inside me and then burns on the outside, flushing onto my brown skin ’til I’m worried my melanin has finally stopped protecting me. That it’s blazing to the surface in a hue of golden warmth.
Blake knows me so well, he can take one look at me and notice how flustered I become around him.
The recent moments we’ve shared haven’t helped. From naked dreams to stolen kisses, we’ve been dancing around each other for days now.
Most women would’ve dropped their panties for him already (as Mama calls it). They would be riding the Blake Cash freight train all the way to orgasm town if they had a man as handsome and dedicated and caring as he is.
