Page 6 of Driving Whiskey Wild
“Yup. He turned to a big puddle of goo for my baby girl,” Gemma agreed.
Finlay had seen that sweet side of him with the kids, but it worried her that she could just as easily picture him with his hand around a man’s neck. “What did he do?”
Dixie laughed. “He did what Bullet does best. He kept the guy against the wall, didn’t flinch, smiled at Kennedy, and somehow, without a hint of anger, he said, ‘Yes, baby girl, but I’m going to make sure he never does it again.’”
“Wow,” Finlay said a little breathlessly. “That’s scary and chivalrous at the same time.” Her eyes skirted over the dance floor, and somewhere in the back of her mind she cataloged how different Bullet looked from anyone in the bar.
“It’s only scary if the guy didn’t deserve it, but he literally broke that woman’s nose,” Crystal said. “He deserved it.”
“I was worried when the police pulled Bullet off the guy,” Gemma admitted. “But Bullet didn’t seem concerned, and the guy didn’t press charges, so…”
Finlay couldn’t imagine seeing anything like that firsthand. “Did you have to reschedule the wedding? I would have been a mess.”
“Are you kidding?” Crystal asked. “Nothing would have stopped us from getting married. Once a Whiskey man makes up his mind about something, nothing will dissuade him.”
Bullet’s voice thundered in her head. You may not be ready to ride yet…But one day you will be…
“All of them?” Finlay asked.
Dixie nodded as she checked out a dark-haired guy walking by. “We were brought up that way.” The waiter brought her drink, and she tucked a five-dollar bill into his pocket and winked. She patted his butt and said, “Thanks. Now get outta here. I’ve got to chat with my girls.”
“Dixie!” Finlay laughed.
“What? He’s cute, right?” Dixie took a drink.
Crystal pushed away from the table, holding her stomach. “I think those nachos want to come back up. I’m going to the ladies’ room. Back in a few minutes.”
“Want me to go with you?” Gemma offered.
“No, I’m good.” Crystal hurried toward the ladies’ room.
Dixie leaned across the table and said, “For once my brothers aren’t around. I’m going to have some fun. See? We Whiskeys all go after what we want.” She gathered her hair over her shoulder, and her expression turned serious. “Wait. Are you worried about Bullet? Because he acted like he didn’t want you to work at the bar?”
Finlay finished Penny’s drink. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“She’s lying,” Penny announced. She leaned in so close her nose nearly touched Finlay’s. “You’re lying. Your eye is twitching.”
Finlay turned away. “It is not.”
Gemma squinted at her. “Your eye is twitching.”
“It’s like Pinocchio’s nose,” Penny said. “But why are you…? Oh my God. You like him.”
There was a collective gasp.
“That’s why you’re suddenly drinking like a fish. You never drink, except when you feel overwhelmed, which is never.” Penny’s long lashes fluttered over her mischievous blue eyes as she patted her hand over her heart. “Buuuulllleeeeet—”
“Ew! That’s my brother.” Dixie downed her drink.
“It’s not true! I drink sometimes,” Finlay insisted. “I drank when I decided to move back home. Izzy and I went out to celebrate and I had a margarita.”
“One drink?” Penny pointed to the empty glasses in front of Finlay. “You’re totally hot for Bullet.”
“I am not!” Finlay insisted, purposely looking out at the dance floor instead of meeting the girls’ curious gazes. Geez! Am I? She needed another drink, no matter what it told Penny about her feelings. Trying to figure out how she felt toward Bullet should not be decided on the heels of hearing about Bullet’s convictions toward taking care of others. That was like an aphrodisiac.
“Fin, why are you lying?” Penny pushed. “Bullet’s a good guy, and Lord knows you could use a man who knows what he’s doing to shake things up between the sheets.”
“Penny! Please!” She made a mental note not to share her sex life with her sister ever again. She never should have told Penny she’d been intimate with only one man since Aaron, or how bad that experience had been. “I’m just…curious, or something. He’s nothing like any of the other guys I know.”
“What’s going on between the sheets?” Gemma asked.
“Or not going on?” Dixie added.
Finlay closed her eyes, but it made her a little dizzy, so she opened them and said, “Not going on, thank you very much, and nothing. We’re not talking about this.”
“What are we not talking about?” Crystal asked as she slid into the seat beside Gemma. Her face was sheet white. “Whatever it is, you’d better not talk about it too fast. My stomach is beyond sick. I just threw up, so I called Bear. I need to go home.”
“Threw up?” Gemma put her hand on Crystal’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever, and you didn’t drink anything.”
“Nachos…” Crystal put her hand on her stomach and said, “I’ll have Bear come back and drive you guys home after he takes me home, but I don’t think I can be in the car for that long without puking.”
“We can get an Uber,” Penny assured her, and the girls all agreed.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” Finlay said. “I’d offer to drive you home, but…” She pointed to all the empty glasses on the table.
“None of you are getting behind the wheel. Got it?” Crystal demanded.
They all nodded.
Crystal leaned back, holding her stomach. “Now, please talk so I think about something other than my stomach.”
They all talked at once about clothes, movies, and other nonsense to distract her. Fifteen minutes later, Bear appeared by the table, concern written all over his handsome face.
He helped Crystal to her feet and slipped an arm around her waist. “I’ve got you, sugar. Can you make it to the car, or should I carry you?”
Carry her? Finlay’s heart swelled at the love billowing off him.
“I can walk, but we may need a bucket.” Crystal smiled at the girls and said, “Sorry, you guys. Gem, I’ll call you if I’m still sick in the morning, but hopefully it’s just the nachos.”
They said their goodbyes, and after a few minutes of gushing over Bear’s love for Crystal and hoping she was okay, Dixie said, “I think we need to dance.”
She grabbed Finlay’s hand and dragged her toward the crowded dance floor. Gemma and Penny followed them out. It had been a long time since Finlay had gone dancing, and even longer since she’d been this tipsy. She felt amazing! She gazed up at the colored lights misting over the dance floor, where couples swayed seductively, bumping and grinding, their skin glistening with sweat. Finlay was right there in the middle of it all, lost in a topsy-turvy world. Guys cut in to dance with her, and she sang along with the lyrics, without a care about anything other than having fun. But as men cycled through, dancing with her for a few songs, bumping and grinding, her inebriated mind turned them all into the scowling, bearded giant she was trying not to think about. The one who stood up for a total stranger at the risk of being arrested.
The one who wanted her to ride his Bullet train.
She gazed up at the blond guy she was dancing with. He was hot, with sexy dark eyes and serious dance moves. Maybe he could take her mind off Bullet. She swayed her hips and tried to give him a seductive look, bracing herself for the tingling sensation in her belly and the fluttering inside her that had hit full force every time she was near Bullet.
But nothing came.
Her body was numb. Or dumb.
Come on, she pleaded with herself. She needed a night of freedom and flirting, and kissing. Gosh, she missed kissing so much! She wasn’t even sure she remembered how to do it. Maybe she’d really get wild and touch all this guy’s muscles, too. That’s what she needed. A good fu—
She couldn’t even think the word, it went so strongly against her grain.
Just like Bullet.
BULLET KICKED HIS feet up on the porch railing and cracked open a beer. Tinkerbell, his rottweiler puppy, named by Kennedy, rested her chin on his leg. “How’s my girl?”
He set the beer down and patted his stomach. Tinkerbell hopped up on his lap and licked his face. He grabbed her furry head between his hands and planted a kiss on her snout. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”
She rested her head on his chest and curled up like a giant lap dog. His brothers were always giving him shit about allowing Tinkerbell to sit on his lap, but he didn’t give a fuck if she grew to be a hundred and twenty pounds. He’d happily love her up. There weren’t many things that made Bullet truly happy, but Kennedy, Lincoln, and that eighty-pound pup always put a smile on his face. Finding Tinkerbell had changed his life for the better, and he only hoped he made her life just as good. He’d been up late one night when insomnia had dug its nasty nails in deep and refused to let go. He got in his truck and got stuck behind a beat-up black Cadillac on his way out of town, when the car slowed and tossed a load of garbage into the road. Pissed off, and worried someone might get into an accident, he’d pulled over to clear the debris. He’d never forget the sick feeling that had consumed him when he’d lifted the garbage bag and felt something move. He’d found the rail-thin pup inside. He’d torn every fucking trash bag open to make sure there were no other animals, and then he’d taken the rottie straight to his buddy Marty “Paws” Miller, a veterinarian who was also a Dark Knight. The first few days were rough, with Tink puking up her food nearly every time she ate, out of nerves or because her stomach was just not used to food, he wasn’t sure. But she’d soon acclimated, and she’d been Bullet’s companion ever since. Neither of them could sleep without the other. Tinkerbell had become so attuned to Bullet, that on the rare occasions when the nightmares he’d experienced after first returning to civilian life claimed him, she’d wake him before they pulled him too far under.
