Page 32 of Jingle Belle's Biker

“None of your business.”

He laughs and stands, lifting me from the seat. I’m glad I’m in trousers and not a skirt as he does so, otherwise, a whole lot of people would have gotten a look at my fine cotton panties.

When he sets me down, I sway into him. His arm comes around me, hauling me in close. He leans into me, and my heart’s still in the air somewhere, along with half my nervous system.

The other half is here, responding in overdrive to his touch.

“If I make it my business?”

His mouth is close, and a fluttery sensation passes through me, making me throb. “What’s it worth?”

“Playing with fire?”

“Depends on the fire,” I say.

I’m never this flirty, this wild inside, but he has a knack for drawing that out of me, of setting things alight.

And I barely know him.

I rest my hands on those strong, hard biceps, and I can’t help but curl my fingers into his skin. His mouth curls up.

“You can play. But be warned, fires bite back.”

“Fires don’t have teeth.”

He laughs. “The heat isn’t a bite?”

“Only if you’re too close to the flame.”

“See, what I think is you’re a natural blusher, it’s a tell. Your thoughts tangle, go down paths, and fucking bam, you’re all red hot and on fire.” He traces a finger beneath my lower lip. “Under your skin. But lucky for you, I’m not going to push.”

Then he lets me go.

Breath is hard to come by, and it takes me a moment to notice the eyes on me. For a brief moment, it was him and me and no one, nothing else, existed.

Someone comes in and starts talking to him, and money exchanges hands after a small protest from Saint.

Taking my stool, I go back to my burger.

Havana comes over after finishing serving someone, and as Bon Jovi sings about prayers, she leans on the bar, face in hands. “While your Saint’s making a deal for a custom job, I thought I’d ask a little more about your friend.”

I could correct her and say neighbor, but I don’t. “She’s trustworthy. She’s got a kid, Pepper, cutest little thing. And an ex who’s a bully.”

Her lips press hard. “I know bikers get a rep for treating women like property, objects, and it’s true. Depends on the club and even the chapter on how that is. These guys? I haven’t met one who’s into violence or treating a woman as less than. Y’know? So, if she gets a job here, then your friend needs tounderstand they don’t look kindly on other men touching their women.”

“Their women?” Panic starts to thread.

“Not in a sexual way.” Her mouth lifts, and she runs M&M colored nails over the wood of the bar. Each nail is a different color. “Not unless that’s what she wants. But if she works here, then she’ll be protected. An ex-biker owns the place. My old man. It’s a mix of people in here, and on the weekend, girls strip and dance. She’s gotta be fine with that too.”

“Fine with the vibe?” I’m a second-grade teacher, I’m not used to any of this. Somehow, I get the feeling if I walked in here, even without Saint, I’d be maybe hit on, but not treated as a free tasting menu. There’s a realness to the place that isn’t there in the places where Lance likes to go.

All those upmarket, rich bars and clubs. There’s more chance of me being grabbed and treated like I’m on offer to whoever can pay at those haunts.

It’s happened.

Even with Lance with me.

Mellie, she’s shy, but she’s not about to be asked to dance on a pole. In an office would suit her.

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