Page 24 of When Sparks Fly

Leah and Pete slip easily into conversation and I envy the ease with which Leah is able to fit a scene. She’s like a chameleon.

A single couple begins to make their way around the dance floor.

“You’re not from here.” Colt takes a swig of his beer, idly watching the dancers.

“Maybe not.” With a coy sideways glance, I sip my drink.

“You move recently?”

“Visiting. I live in Austin.” Leah convinced me to come out for some fun tonight, but I don’t want to get into heartbreak and family drama.

One of his hands comes up to brush back and forth over his mouth. He sets his empty beer bottle on the table and rests his hand, drawing my attention. Completed in black and gray, a scorpion tattoo fills a large portion of his left hand. The tail is situated in the middle with the head facing the space between his thumb and pointer fingers. Large pinchers stretch out to the first knuckle of each.

I’m close enough to reach out and trace the pinchers of the creature. Which I do, because I’m four drinks deep. His eyes land on his hand and then move up to my face. I purse my lips playfully without looking, willing myselfto relax some. Colt leans forward with his elbows on the table, shifting his body in my direction. His warmth permeates my favorite black Henley with lace sleeves. He takes another long drink from his beer, his dark brown eyes flowing over me. “You need a drink.”

My eyes fall to my glass.That one didn’t last long.“You like stating the obvious.” His eyes flash and he grins.

Like she was summoned, Tawny approaches the table. Colt’s eyes roam over me again while Pete and Leah make a few requests. The corner of his mouth curves at me in a half-smirk and he orders us another round.

Leah leans forward, looking directly at me. “How do you think we get table-side service?”

“Well, for starters, I’m confident her attire isn’t for the benefit of you and me. Probably thinks she’ll have better luck here.” I hike a thumb toward Colt and raise my eyebrows toward Pete.

“Not a chance,” Pete gripes. Maybe I’m not the only one put off by the pedo-feel of some of the other patrons and their treatment of Tawny. It’s not her fault; she’s cute, but I can’t help but feel a little icky about it.

An older member walks up to the table and sits on the stool next to Pete. “What’s up, James?” Pete asks.

“Petey.” James’ voice is warm and low, with a hint of something foreign I can’t place due to his limited response. Leah leans back on her stool to look around Pete and take in the newcomer. Her eyes widen at me playfully and she mouths something like “hot”.

James nods at Colt who hasn’t addressed him, before his eyes slide over me and he tries to hide a double-take. His keen, green eyes are set in a distinguished face. Salt and pepper hair is styled impeccably, along with a well-groomed full mustache and short-trimmed beard. Not what one would usually think of for a motorcycle club member.

His broad shoulders give him a formidable build, though he exudes power, but not aggression. Beneath the taut black button-up and cut, it’s easy to see how well-built he is, even if he’s old enough to be my father. I scan his cut for a clue, trying to determine if we’ve met before, instead spotting the President patch on his left breast. Not entirely a surprise.

I will my face to remain impassive and make eye contact with Leah, wondering if she noticed. She’s already resumed talking with Pete, though, and the newcomer swivels on his stool to start a conversation with someone at the next table.

Tawny arrives with our drinks and I take a long pull from my straw with Colt’s eyes trained on me. “Like what you see?” he asks, his voice lower and closer than it had been.

Shrugging, I continue to sip my drink. He seems to be testing me. I’m aware he’s referring to James and not himself, and I refuse to indulge him with a real answer, even if my attention is more about determining what James knows that I don’t.

“Here!” Leah shouts over the music. She pushes two shot glasses our way, matching the ones near Pete and herself, then runs a hand through her untamed hair, throwing it over her head in Pete’s direction.

“What is it?” My eyes survey the red drink suspiciously and I contemplate not partaking.

“Red hots!” She confirms my worst fear. Tequila. Leah’s eyes sparkle at me and she bounces with excitement next to Pete. He smirks at her and reaches for the glass. “It’s only one!”

I press my eyes closed momentarily then swipe the shot glass off the table, looking at Leah expectantly before I can change my mind. Leah grabs hers eagerly, and in my peripheral, Colt lifts the one in front of him.

Leah opens her mouth to toast, but Pete beats her to it. “To Hell! May the stay there be as fun as the way there!”

That eases some of my tension and Leah and I grin wildly at each other before throwing back our shots, the spicy cinnamon effect lingering in my mouth.

“Whoo!” Leah cheers. “This tequila tastes like I’m not going to work tomorrow!”

“Oh, fabulous,” I tease, still grinning.

Out of habit, I scan the room and accidentally discover James with his eyes on Colt. He tips his chin down, acknowledging he’s been caught, though he doesn’t seem embarrassed, and then walks away from the table, joining a few MC members who are standing nearby.

Colt lays a hand on my thigh and squeezes firmly, drawing my eyes down to the literal pinchers wrapped around my leg, before they track taut muscles up his arm. Anticipation builds and I expect to find him watching me when our eyes meet. Instead, he’s tracking James from the table with a less than pleased expression. Again, the tension between us is dimmed, while my curiosity is piqued at the exchange.

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