Page 5 of The Love Wager

When he hangs up, I feel lighter while looking down at the paperwork I’d been mulling over. That is until I hear yet another melee from within the bar filtering down the small hall leading to my office.

“Godfuckingdamnit!” I growl, standing.

My chair hits the wall behind my desk as I grab the bat by the door, ready for the worst if it’s a fight.

Storming into the room, I find the pain-in-the-ass redhead from earlier standing in front of Butch, her arms crossed and a hellish smirk on her face.

“Did I hurt you?” she asks.

Butch’s face is typically red, but now, it’s the color of the sweetest apple. “I didn’t say you fucking hurt me. I said you need to keep your hands to yourself.”

Fuck me, I don’t want to go toe to toe with Butch.

Butch Eddy leads one of the few biker clubs in the area, The Black Skulls, and he’s a big motherfucker.

It seems this city girl came to stir Abaline up tonight.

“Oh, grow up, it was a little stroke!”

This has my full attention as I lean against the bat and watch the exchange with a rowdy group of onlookers laughing their asses off. This night has been off since her raucous group walked through the door, but it’s nothing compared to when the hurricane that isherarrived later on, joining them and choosing violence.

“Do I even want to know what you’ve done now, red?”

Her eyes turn angry as she swings them in my direction. “Fuck off, I wasn’t on your bar.”

“Mmm, but you’re still standinginmy bar. So, tell me what bullshit you’ve caused now. I don’t want to bounce you out of here.”

She laughs. “You and what army?”

I nod my head toward Butch, who looks over his shoulder at three tables of bikers eyeing the entire exchange.

She swallows, but her face doesn’t show an ounce of fear. “All I fucking did was touch his beard. But big baby here couldn’t handle it, apparently.”

Confusion whacks me over the head as Butch growls, “You left out that you didn’t ask fucking permission to touch me!”

“Oh, come off it!” she yells back.

I can’t deny the tick in the corner of my lips, or the urge to laugh.

“Why is it you touched Butch’s beard without permission?” I dare to ask.

“Butch?” She laughs. “Come on, could you be more on-brand?”

Her eyes are a bit glassier than before, and I can tell she’s been having quite the night. And being that last call is a ways off, I’m assuming it’ll only get worse from here.

“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission to stroke your beard,” red says, and I have to clear my throat at the laugh I staunch.

Butch tosses his hands in the air. “When you say it like that, this all seems silly.”

She laughs, and the melodic sound drowns out every bit of the jukebox and the dull chatter of those uninterested in what’s happening here.

Butch steps forward, and for a moment, I catch my breath, hand gripping my bat in a tight choke.

“All is forgiven, beautiful,” he tells her, slapping her on the shoulder.

She wobbles a little on her feet but recovers, a full smile on her lips as she looks back over at me and bares her teeth before turning and heading toward her table. The same table surrounded by the gaggle of girls who are dying of laughter.

“What are they playing at?” Travis asks, coming up and grabbing the bat from me.

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