Page 69 of Devil to Pay: Cutter

I’m not an animal.

One-Click! Devil Inside: Green

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Now…Here’s your sneak peek at book 1 in the Brimstone Lords MC Series: Bossman Undone >>> BOSSMAN UNDONE

Bossman Undone

Ch. 1

Elise

Lady Sings the Blues

I readthe glowing-pink neon sign above the door a few more times, standing one foot both inside the rundown juke joint and one foot out, letting the cold air escape.We’re not cooling off the outdoors,I hear my mother’s words in my head sounding, as she normally sounded, pissed at me. Not needing anyone else pissed at me, especially not here, I move securely inside as the heavy glass door swings shut behind me.

Once the door catches, the space is plunged into darkness. The only natural light should have come from the panes in the door. But the glass has been covered over by thick butcher paper, leaving only about an inch margin of light showing through both the upper and lower sections of window, as if whoever put it there underestimated how much paper would be used. That or they just didn’t know how to measure.

Remember Elise, measure twice, cut once, no matter what you’re doing. You might not get the chance again.

This was something my dad taught me. I wish I’d known then how prolific those words would come to be.

I miss him.

There are a few customers hunched over tables dispersed randomly around the dark space. They look up for a moment with squinting eyes before turning back to their beers or bourbons. It’s early to be in a place like this. Too early. Pretty much me and the drunks. Me and the drunks and the low, throaty, anguished melodies softly humming through the jukebox speakers.

“A duck walks into a bar,” I hear, realizing someone is speaking to me.

“Excuse me?” I ask, moving closer in the direction of the voice which draws me in with the thick country twang of this area. Accents always get to me. Probably because I grew up in Michigan where we’ve developed the non-accent accent. It sounds fine, but no one is going to write it into a television script. His sounds smooth and sexy, and a hundred percent Kentucky.

He repeats, “A duck walks into a bar. He says to the barkeep, ‘You got any duck food?’ The barkeep answers, ‘No, we don’t got food. Especially not duck food. Now get gone and don’t come back’.”

“Okay,” I laugh, but he’s not finished. And instead of leaving, which I probably should do, I move in even closer to the man as he continues.

“The next day the duck walks into the bar and asks, ‘Got any duck food?’ The barkeep yells, ‘No we don’t got food, especially not duck food. Now get gone!’ The duck leaves. On the third day, the duck walks into the bar and asks, ‘You got any duck food?’ The barkeep screams, ‘No we ain’t got food, especially not duck food! Come back tomorrow, and I’ll nail your bill closed.’ So the duck leaves.

“The next day the duck walks into the bar and asks, ‘You got any nails?’ ‘No!’ the barkeep grumbles. ‘I ain’t got no nails.’ ‘Good,’ the duck says. ‘Got any duck food?’”

I blink once then burst out a laugh so loud, he takes a step back and so strong, I double over. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed with this much careless abandon, tears filling my eyes.

Once I’ve come down from the laugh enough to right myself, after swiping away the tears, I notice him smiling. Not many people smile at me around here anymore. And his smile, well, that’s a smile worth a double-take. One that would be hidden behind a full beard, if not for the obvious trim job, allowing me to get the full effect of the crooked, yet genuine smile filled with mostly straight, not quite bright white teeth.

There’s something familiar about his smile. Nothing I can pinpoint. Especially since I’ve blocked major portions of my life from when I used to live here. My therapist calls it a survival mechanism. For several years she’s been trying to help me reach that magical breakthrough moment when they all come flooding back. It hasn’t happened yet.

When I realize I’ve been staring, I avert my eyes, slowly glancing up until I meet his. The intensity with how he looks at me could just about knock me off my feet if I didn’t have the bar to keep me upright. It’s want and curiosity and friendship all jumbled together. I haven’t been on the receiving end of such a look in too long a time and only now, seeing his, do I realize how much I’ve missed it.

First his smile, now his eyes. I want to remember him. It’s in my brain somewhere, just waiting to be accessed. The stress of losing my dad, of coming back to this place, probably isn’t helping the cause.

“Tried that joke several times, never gotten that reaction before.”

I blink, turning my attention to his mouth. He has such a pretty mouth and he’s using it to talk to me again. I should answer him. That would be the polite thing to do. But then, what do you say to a man you’ve just met when all you’dliketo do is run your fingers through his hair?

In my defense, he has the thickest head of peanut butter colored hair I’ve ever seen in my life.Peanut butter hair? Really, Elise?Maybe I need lunch instead of a drink. He keeps it pulled back in one of those super sexy man buns. That, coupled with the beard. He’s simply breathtaking.

I’m so focused on the tiny stray hairs curling at his temples and the ones from his mustache trying to hide the corners of his perfect lips that it takes me a beat before I notice he’s stopped talking. I blink again. The silence hangs between us and I should probably fill it.

“I guess I just didn’t expect it?” I answer in the form of a question. Why? Uh… maybe because he has me completely befuddled and I’m pretty sure he can read my thoughts. Though, he’s kind enough not to call me on them.

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