Page 2 of Razor
“I am,” the man confirmed.
“And a doctor?” she asked. In her mind, MC member and doctor seemed like a mismatch.
“I am. MD and PhD.”
“Gracious. That’s a lot of schooling. Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense.”
“None taken. The Devil Daddies MC members are an interesting mix,” Razor told her.
“Oh, do they call you Razor because you’re a doctor? Like instead of a scalpel or bones?” Honey babbled and tried to stop herself.
“Something like that,” he confirmed, but she didn’t believe him. His name held more significance than that.
“Thank you for helping me. I don’t need any medical attention,” she assured him. He must have stopped to help to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself. People filed lawsuits for all sorts of bizarre reasons.
“Good.” He turned and called the name of a passing waitress. She stopped immediately.
“What would you like to drink, Honey?” Razor asked, focusing back on her.
“Oh! Could I have water or a soft drink?” Honey didn’t indulge much and definitely didn’t need the alcohol to make her more unsteady.
“Of course. Do you like strawberries, Honey?”
“Love them.”
“Sara, would you bring Honey a bottle of water and a virgin strawberry margarita to try? I’d love the stout on tap, please,” Razor ordered.
“You got it, Razor. Be back in a few,” the chipper server promised. She looked at Honey and smiled. “Hey, glad to see you again.”
“Thank you.” When Sara bustled off, Honey asked in amazement, “They make virgin margaritas?”
“They will for you,” he answered without hesitating.
“Nice. Thank you.” Unsure what to say next, Honey scanned the interior. It was still early, but groups of people had congregated at the bar, around tables, and on the dance floor. She squashed the small zing of envy at the sight of everyone moving to the addictive beat.
“Would you like to dance?” Razor asked as if he read her mind.
“Oh, no. I have two left feet these days. I love that they’re having fun though.”
“These days? Has something changed for you?” he asked.
She stiffened, immediately uncomfortable. Razor seemed to pick up on her body language instantly.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to pry. My professional training getting ahead of me, I’m afraid.”
Honey searched his face, only noting his concern, and relaxed her automatic guard. “What kind of bike do you have?” she asked, changing the subject. “Or do you ride?”
“I have a Harley chopper. Do you know what that is?”
“I’ve definitely heard the name Harley. Chopper? Does that have something to do with the front?” she asked, trying to remember the romance novels she’d devoured about motorcycle clubs.
“Very good. It does. The front section is elongated. I’m impressed. Have you ridden a bike before?”
“Oh, no. None of my family has one. A few bad boys in school did, but I was quite timid then. I’m sure they never noticed me.”
“The bar zipped these together for me quickly,” the server said as she paused by their table with her laden tray. She set down the drinks quickly and dashed away before Honey could pull her credit card out to hand it over.
“Oh!” Honey said, holding her card.
