Page 12 of Driving Whiskey Wild
As soon as there was a break in orders, Bullet turned his back to the bar and unwrapped the tissue paper, unveiling a cookie that looked a hell of a lot like him, from his beard and tattoos right down to his black leather boots. While all the other cookies had WHISKEY BRO’S or WB scrawled across them, his cookie read, BULLET TRAIN.
Chapter Five
THE NEXT MORNING Finlay let herself into Whiskey Bro’s. The bar didn’t open for a few hours and she knew she’d have time alone to go through the customers’ suggestions from last night before her meeting with Dixie to go over the appliances. She could hardly believe she’d pulled off getting to know so many customers without being a nervous wreck. But Bullet had taken care of that when she’d walked in the door and nearly slammed into him. After blurting out all the secret thoughts she’d been having about him, she’d been most nervous about facing him. And for whatever reason, after she’d nearly bowled him over when she’d arrived, he’d kept his distance for the rest of the evening. When she’d gathered her things to leave for the night, he’d been tied up with customers, and she’d slipped out the front door without a confrontation.
Now, as she sat at the bar, sifting through customer menu suggestions, her mind traveled back to the night Bullet had carried her into her bedroom. He’d never answered her questions about why he was so gruff or why he’d come to get them. Dixie had told her that after dropping all of them off Wednesday night, Bullet had picked up Bear and taken him to get Crystal’s car. She found it curious that he was always willing to drop what he was doing for his family. Didn’t he have a social life? She’d assumed he was out on his bike at all hours, picking up women and doing Lord only knew what. But he’d been stone-cold sober every time she’d seen him, including when she’d met him at the wedding, which was more than she could say for herself in the last forty-eight hours.
She unfolded a piece of notepaper and read another customer suggestion. More cookies, and buffalo wings. She smiled, pleased at the response. There were several more requests for cookies, along with sandwiches, burgers, salads—which surprised her—and a host of other easy-to-make dishes. She wondered what Bullet had thought of his cookie. Did he notice that it was different from the rest? Did he care? She thought of the note he’d left stuck to today’s date on the calendar. This is when you need me. What did that mean?
What do I want it to mean?
She wasn’t ready to answer that question, so she pushed it aside and made her way through more than a hundred suggestions. When Bullet walked through the kitchen door, she was so deep in concentration, she was startled, knocking a handful of the notepapers onto the floor. Her hand flew to her chest, as if that might calm her racing heart.
“Geez, Bullet. You scared me. How’d you get in the kitchen without me seeing you walk by?”
He wasn’t wearing his leather vest, and he looked even more commanding without it. His faded black T-shirt stretched tight across his body, defining each and every muscle in his torso. There was a tear on his left shoulder, and the edges of the sleeves were frayed. On anyone else it might look ratty, but on Bullet it looked right. His dark jeans were faded and nearly worn through in the thighs, like a favorite old pair, and his scuffed black leather boots made him look edgy—and hot.
“Back door,” he said, pulling her from her secret inspection.
In three long strides he was standing beside her, his heady stare making her heart beat even harder.
“What’s that look for?” she asked.
His eyes twitched, but he didn’t say a word, just scanned her notebook, where she had written down the menu suggestions, looked at her bag and her other items spread out along the bar, and then glanced down at the notes littering the floor. When his gaze landed on her again, he looked deeply into her eyes, as if he was searching for something. The intensity of his stare made it hard for her to breathe.
“Do you remember what happened two nights ago?” he asked.
It would be so easy to say she didn’t remember, but no part of her wanted to lie to him. “Of course. I told you I wasn’t drunk.” She set down the pen she was holding and crossed her arms, needing the barrier between them, because the longer he stared at her, the more intrigued she became.
“Everything?” He set one hand on the bar, the other on the arm of the stool, caging her in. “Loose lips sink ships.”
Holding his gaze, she said, “There is no ship to sink. I remember every word.”
“Then we’re both on the same page,” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
An after-sex voice.
She swallowed hard, remembering the last thing he’d said to her Wednesday night. For the record…I want to see you naked, too.
“You know you want to go out with me, Finlay.” He slid his hand along her back, and heck if her body didn’t heat right up like she’d been torched. “Don’t fight it, lollipop. Tonight’s our night.”
Her head spun with thoughts, desires, worries. She pushed from the stool to her feet, needing the distraction of pacing, but he blocked her path, towering over her. His closeness made her knees weak.
His features softened, and just when she began to catch her breath, she remembered how his entire demeanor had changed in an instant when he’d held her after she’d come face-to-face with Tinkerbell. I’ve got you, lollipop. So much for catching her breath.
“Do you want to go out with me, Finlay? Or are you playing some sort of game?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly, throwing her hands up, frustrated with her own confusion. “Yes…Wait, no. Yes…”
He cocked his head with a perplexed expression.
“I’m sorry! I’m really confused. You mess with my head. Or rather, you’ve been messing with my head since the wedding. But that’s not your fault. And now I’m rambling, but I want to be honest with you. The truth is, I’m curious about you. Maybe more than curious,” she said, moving around him so she could pace. “But I don’t know what you expect from women, and I don’t know anything about your biker lifestyle. I don’t think I’m a biker girl. But I don’t really know that. I do know I’m probably not like the women you’re used to, and motorcycles scare me. And sometimes you scare me. Not you, you, but the idea of you, because I’m not sure who you really are. But you also turn me on, which makes it all even more confusing.”
A slow grin spread across his face.
“See? That smile makes my stomach go all sorts of crazy.”
“Call me nuts, but I think that’s a good thing, Fins.”
The endearment also made her insides flutter. But none of that came close to the worries welling up inside her right that second as the big, confident caretaker to all around him stood looking at her like he was hanging on her every word, and the truth came tumbling out. “I haven’t been with a lot of guys, and like I said, I don’t know what you expect. You’re all power and”—she tried to use her hands to emphasize her thoughts, but she ended up looking like she was imitating a bear, with claws extended—“sexuality, like you’re ready to swoop in and devour me. But I’m not sure I can handle being devoured, because it’s been so long since I’ve even kissed a guy that I might have…”
He stepped closer as slow as could be and placed a hand on her hip. She was mesmerized by his gentle approach and the touch of his hand as he brushed her hair over her shoulder, holding her gaze so intensely, she couldn’t speak. His hand slid softly to the nape of her neck, then into her hair, until his long fingers cradled the back of her head. His other arm circled her waist, holding her against him.
“Forgotten how…” she whispered.
He gave her plenty of time to pull away, to tell him no, but her voice was silenced by the throbbing of her heart, the wanting in her head. As he lowered his face toward hers, she went up on her toes, bracing for a fierce, possessive kiss. But his mouth came gently down over hers, drawing a breathy sigh. His lips were warm and soft, his hands hard and hot, and her body was a vibrating mess. His beard scratched her cheeks, sending swirls of desire spiraling through her core. He pressed her tighter against him, angled her head and kissed her harder. His tongue swept across the seam of her lips, and she surrendered to his masterful seduction. His whole body beat against her like a pulse, bringing a surge of lust from some forgotten place inside her. He took the kiss deeper, tasting every dip and swell of her mouth, and a heady sound rumbled in the back of his throat. And oh, how she loved that! She’d never been kissed so thoroughly, been wanted so desperately. She never imagined that the man who was forward motion personified could harness that power and deliver it with such all-consuming passion. She couldn’t resist lifting higher on her toes, clawing at his shoulder, trying to taste more of his sweet and sinful desire. He was right there with her, gripping her waist as he lifted her off her feet, holding her against his hard frame, her legs dangling off the ground as he kissed her breathless.
She was so lost in the slide of their tongues, the purely male, utterly unique taste of him, time failed to exist. They could have been kissing for hours, maybe even days. By the time her feet touched the ground, her noodle legs refused to work. But they didn’t need to. Bullet was still holding her tight, kissing her softer now, his scratchy beard trailing after his lips across her jaw, all the way to her ear.
