Page 43 of Jacob

Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus on that thought. There was a chance, slim as it may be, that no one saw them. People fucked in the parking lot all the time. What were the odds the prospect noticed them or cared? It wasn’t like she was an Ol’ Lady or Pipes was a patch. They were practically hang-arounds.

Plus, Pipes and that prospect weren’t even that close. So, it’s completely feasible he may not have noticed her and Jacob. It’s possible.

Maybe if she kept repeating it in her mind, she could convince herself.

“Where do you need me?” she asked Kimber.Focus. Get busy and get a drink. The night would fly and be over soon.

Kamikaze shots.Don’t mind if I do. Light beers. Vodka cranberries. Screwdrivers. Craft beers. Tequila shots—she’d join in. It was a party, after all.

She and Kimber sang along with the final song of the night—You Don’t Own Meby Lesley Gore. The two of them were just as drunk as the three women trying to sing it on stage. Apparently, no one knew more than the chorus. Thankfully, it was the end of the night, so drink demands were easy. Draft beers, bottles, and well drinks. She could handle those.

With the crowd of the bar thinning, the DJ cleared out his things, and the music switched over to the jukebox. Shinedown’sI’ll Follow You Downplayed and Sparrow sang along softly as she wiped down the bar, clearing out empties from the tray the waitress had just brought over.

Riding high on a good buzz of seven and sevens with the mixture of shots she’d had through the evening, she felt good. Her worries from earlier, her test, her parking lot rendezvous, all of it felt like a lifetime ago. Swaying her hips, she cleaned and enjoyed delaying life’s problems.

Until she looked up to find glacier blue eyes locked on her. With his back to the wall, a glass held to his lips, his expression unreadable from the distance, he stared. To his right, his blond-bearded brother had an auburn-haired woman in his lap giggling and rubbing her hand over his bald head. To his left, a brunette twirled her hair with her back to Sparrow, and her focus locked on Jacob.

Like bile, the jealousy rose in her throat and burned.

She hadn’t seen him come back inside. Then again, she hadn’t looked for him. She’d told him to wait and he must have, because he wasn’t right behind her. Grinding her teeth, she snagged a bottle and slammed it into the trash. The bottles clanked, amplified by the rubber container.

Startled, Kimber turned, peering at her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied, dumping more bottles into the bin, this time careful not to let her irrational anger out on them.

Romeo. His road name was fucking Romeo. What the hell did she expect? She’d romanticized him, projected some sort of fantasy on him—put him on an impossible pedestal. Bikers were bikers were bikers. Odin’s Fury or Roughneck Riders, Montana or Ohio—it didn’t matter. They all did the same goddamn shit.

Women were property. Men got to do whatever the hell they wanted.

It was her own fault, really. He came here acting like a biker and what did she do? She fell for it. She acted like a club whore. Of course, he’d treat her like one. What the hell did she expect?

She was a fool.

“You got this?” she asked her co-worker. She didn’t need to stay there and watch him with his bitch. She’d seen enough. She just wanted to go home.

At least Pipes had the decency to do whatever he did away from her. He never messed around right in front of her. He respected her enough to do it behind her back. Yes. She was very aware of how ludicrous that thought was, but this was her life. She had to find the tiniest bits of respect where she could.

Kimber studied her with a frown. “You done?” she asked and looked around, taking a deep breath. “I should be able to close up. One of the girls can help me clean.” She nodded, then brought her eye back to Sparrow. “But only if you promise me you aren’t driving. You think I didn’t see how much you drank?” She gave her that motherly look.

With a half-smile, Sparrow snorted. “I’ll find a ride.” She pulled out her phone. “An app or something.” She had to agree, she shouldn’t be driving.

Her friend nodded. “Be sure to write down your hours and let me count out the tips quick.”

A few extra hours, some cash in her pocket, and possibly ruining her entire life fucking her high school crush—two out of three ain’t bad. Meatloaf was right. A drunken chuckle escaped her as she used the rideshare app to secure herself a ride home. Better safe than sorry.

Blame it on the alcohol, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking over her shoulder to that table. She searched the bar for the out-of-town patches. Baldie seemed to be preoccupied with his lap bunny and the brunette looked around bored.

Jacob’s seat was vacant.

Fuck.

Heart in her throat, she scanned the few patrons left. She didn’t need another confrontation. She didn’t trust herself if he turned on the charm again. Jesus, she’d wind up knocked up in the stock room at this rate if he offered.

Just before it disappeared into the men’s room, she caught the profile of Odin with crossed axes behind him on the back of a leather cut. Perfect. Jacob was busy. This was her chance. Accepting whatever Kimber handed her as tips, she didn’t even count it. She rushed out the door for her ride—anything to avoid him.

Chapter 25

Jacob

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