Something’s up. Lately Heath and his wife have been doing everything in their power to convince me to find a woman.
And marry her.
Not that I need convincing. I’ve been busting my ass for the past three years planning for the same damn thing. Trying to build the kind of life that might make a woman overlook the one that came before it.
Heath starts peeling the label off his half-empty bottle of beer, occasionally looking up at his wife and the mystery woman then shaking his head. He finally puts the bottle next to my drink on the bar and leans in, rubbing one hand down his face. “That’s Gabbi’s sister.”
I stare back across the bar at the two women. Never in a million years would I have figured that out on my own.
Heath’s wife Gabbi is one of the best women I know. Maybe the best woman I know. She’s a good wife, a great mom, and one hell of a cook. Meeting her made me rethink what a woman could be.
Maybe should be.
She isn’t however, tall. Or thin. Or blonde. Or stunningly beautiful. Cute definitely, but the woman beside Gabbi is much more than cute. More than pretty. She’s the kind of woman a man can’t help but take notice of. As evidenced by the number of appreciative looks she’s getting from the men in the bar. Not to mention the number of dirty looks coming her way from the women with those men at the bar.
Then it hits me why Heath doesn’t want me near this particular woman.
I turn back to him, gut twisting from the sort of rejection I haven’t let myself feel in years. “So you’re trying to protect her?”
My stomach burns but not from the whiskey I’ve been nursing all night.
Heath, more than anyone, knows how hard I worked to turn my life around, put what I was behind me. Hell, he even helped.
But having a convicted felon as a friend was one thing.
Apparently calling him family was a step too far.
I start to stand up, ready to leave. Walk away from one more person who will never see me as I am, only for what I used to be.
But then Heath starts to laugh.
Fucking laugh.
Hard.
Hard enough he almost falls off his stool and has to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.
“Don’t get your dick in a kink. It’s not her I’m worried about.” He jabs one finger into the center of my chest, still laughing like this is the funniest fucking thing he’s seen all night. “I'm trying to protect you, asshole.”
He’s trying to protect me.
From Blondie.
I squint back across the bar. She looks harmless enough.
“Oh, no.” Heath follows my gaze. “I know that look. Don’t do it man.”
I smile, wondering just what he imagines is so terrible about this woman.
Could Blondie really be as bad as Heath thinks?
Maybe she’s worse.
That might be even better. I’m not into docile women. I want one that will give me a run for my money.
And I’m willing to fucking sprint to catch her.
I give Heath a wink. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
He groans. “Man, I’m telling you.”
It was already too late. He had me at Gabby’s sister.
Blondie’s looks alone would be enough to make most men wish she was theirs, but I’m not most men. I’m at a point in my life where good looks are just the icing on the cake. A pretty face doesn’t necessarily keep you warm at night or stand by you in hard times.
A good woman will.
At least that’s what I’ve been told. Only seen it once with my own eyes, and unfortunately my best friend already snagged that woman years ago.
I want what Heath has.
I want a woman like Gabbi.
And here is a woman that is as close to Gabbi as it gets, all the way down to her genes.
I want to meet her.
Not in spite of what Heath said. More like because of it.
Heath isn’t the kind of guy to be intimidated by many things. He’s a father to two spunky little girls, a husband to their even feistier mother, and a hardened detective for Christ’s sake. If this woman has the ability to ruffle a man like that, she might be just what I need... No. What I want in my life.
“Why didn't you explain Gabbi's sister a little, uh,” I search for a word but come up empty, “better?” I knew she had a sister, but outside of that I hadn’t heard much else about her.
I certainly never heard she was easy on the eyes and hell on wheels. I might have been more diligent about attending their family events.
"She’s not married?" It’s stupid how much the possibility bothers me, but the idea of ending up with a wife even a little like Gabbi, plus upgrading my friends to in-laws, is more than enough to have me over-invested at this stage in the game. Especially considering I haven’t even crossed the starting line.
"Nope."
"Engaged?" I try to keep my voice even, but new ideas about the future I’ve been working so hard to have are running laps through my mind. And they’re picking up speed.
Heath’s face is serious as he catches my gaze. “I told you man. She is not what you’re looking for.” He looks past me.
“Shit.”
I follow his line of sight to the table where Gabbi and her sister sit.
Sat. The seats they’d filled two minutes ago are empty.
“Hey, boys.”
I hear Gabbi’s voice behind me and resist the urge to turn around. I have to play this just right. No way am I fucking this up. I glance at Heath and the look of dread on his face almost makes me laugh. She can’t be that bad.
But I won’t be upset if she is.
Not by a long shot.
I count to ten then grip the bar for leverage, slowly spinning my stool until I face Gabbi and her sister.
If a woman ever had ‘fuck off’ written across her forehead it’s the tall drink of water standing in front of me, looking everywhere but my face.
And doesn’t that just piss me off.
But I wait. I can be patient.
Nothing but four walls and a cot to stare at for a couple years does that to you.
Finally her eyes land on mine.
“Hey, Joe.” Gabbi scoots past me and props herself between Heath’s legs before snuggling into his chest. “I’m gonna go. I’m tired and my butt is sore from sitting on that small-ass seat all afternoon.”
It might have taken Gabbi’s sister a minute to warm up to me but it was turning out to be well worth the wait. She still hasn’t looked away. Probably trying to figure me out. Her eyes move from my face to the length of my dark hair. Then they move south. Studying. Appraising.
She barely makes it to my chest before her body jolts to one side as a drunken biker who can’t be a day under seventy-five bumps into her. He looks her up and down, then throws one arm around her shoulders. Blondie doesn’t even flinch. Just slowly turns her head to look at the hand he let rest dangerously close to her left breast.
“Hey, sweetheart.” The man presses the length of his body into her right side, but she still doesn’t react.
“I been eyein’ you all night.” He tips his head to look down her front, glassy eyes pausing on her chest. “How ‘bout you and me go somewhere a little more alone?”
She cocks an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the incoherent offer. “No, thank you.” Her voice is low and not even the least bit sweet. Using her index finger and thumb, Blondie picks up the man’s hand from her shoulder and drops it.
His eyes narrow as he grunts out a scoff.
“Frigid bitch."
The old biker is a good two inches shorter than Gabbi’s sister is in her heels and over-served enough to be unsteady on his feet. He makes a V with his fingers and holds it up to his lips, wiggling his tongue between them as he tries to take a step backwards.
I’ve had enough. I push up out of my seat, ready to take the old man out for some fresh air. Before I can get all the way up, Blondie’s drunken Romeo bumps
into a group of people and over corrects, falling face first toward Gabbi’s sister. She steps back, out of the way of his flailing body, and watches as he lands at her feet, never batting an eye.
We both stare down at the man on the floor between us.
“You always have men falling at your feet?”
Her gaze snaps up to meet mine. For a split second her face softens.
“No. I'm not usually—” She blinks hard, her serious expression returning so fast I almost don’t believe it ever left.
She looks back to the man on the floor and nudges him with the pointy toe of one brown leather boot. Blondie leans across the bar, easily catching the eye of the guy behind it. “There’s a man on the ground passed out. You need to call an ambulance.” Her voice is calm, all business, no emotion.
She steps over the inebriate, siding up to Gabbi and Heath who clearly missed what just happened. “Gabs, I’m done. It’s been a long day and I’m ready to go.” It almost looks like her eyes slide my way before snapping back to her sister. "I need to get out of here."
Her voice sounds tight or maybe just tired. I’d be able to pay better attention if she wasn’t standing close enough to smell. After a day filled with smoky bars, bike exhaust, and leathery sweat, her sweet, rosy scent is like a breath of fresh air, making me shift a little closer.
“I’m coming.” Gabbi pecks Heath on the lips and turns, noticing the man on the ground for the first time.
“Holy shit, Joe. What happened?” Her eyes are wide as they move from the floor up to mine.
“Too much tequila I think.”
“Oh.” Gabbi stands silent for a minute, obviously unsure how to proceed.
Her eyes move from me to Blondie. “Uh, this is my sister, Gwen. Gwen, Heath’s best friend Joe.”
Gwen. I like that better than Blondie.
Gwen’s eyes study me again. I’m a little miffed they don’t pick up where they left off, instead moving straight to my face and the dark hair hitting my shoulders. “You look like Tarzan.”
I force myself not to flinch. I’ve spent years paying for that name. Burying it deep in the dirt of my past. Doing everything I can to forget what that name made me. The things I did because of it.
Just like always, the comparison makes me consider riding home and shaving my head. Sever another tie by sacrificing one more part of myself.
But the hair isn’t what made me Tarzan, and getting rid of it sure as hell won’t keep me from being him again. “I’ve heard that before.”
A slightly amused smile curves one side of Gwen’s mouth. “I bet you have.”
Gabbi grabs her sister’s arm and tugs her toward the door. “We’ve got to go, Joe. I’ll see ya later.”
I watch as the two women make their way through the crowd, sidestepping the paramedics as they come busting through the entrance, scanning the space in an effort to find their victim.
“Here.” I raise one arm, catching their attention, then turn back to the bar to finish my long-neglected drink as the lights switch on and the music turns down.
Heath leans around me, trying to get a look as the medics crouch beside Gwen’s would-be suitor. “What happened there?”
“Drunk.” I down the rest of the now warm, watered-down liquid. "Tried to hit on your sister-in-law.”
“She hit him?”
“What? No, she didn’t hit him.”
“Jesus. You hit him?” He rubs his hands up and down his face. “I told Gabbi this wasn't a good place for her.” Heath starts muttering under his breath, the only words I can make out are something about women and pains in the ass.
“Nobody hit him but the floor.” I glance over as they load the old biker onto a stretcher and shove him through the crowd then I turn back to Heath.
“Why would you think Gwen punched a guy for hitting on her?”
He watches as they wheel the guy out of the bar. “Stranger things have happened.”
The minute the door closes behind them, the lights dim and the speakers once again blare classic rock for the houseful of bikers looking to end their evening on a high note.
“Looks like they had a good turnout today. Hopefully made a bunch of money.”
“Yeah.” Heath seems relieved to be discussing something besides his very attractive, and supposedly uninteresting, sister-in-law. “Kids with cancer always get a big crowd.”
I nod in agreement. “As they should.”
Nothing gets a bunch of hairy, tattooed bikers to open the wallets chained to their jeans like a sick kid. Especially when it’s the kid of a fellow biker’s son. I watch as the man makes his rounds through the packed establishment, thanking everyone for coming, getting handshakes and back-slapping hugs.
This is a law-abiding group. A pack of men from different backgrounds who all simply like to ride, using their mutual interest for good.
Men who only use it for good.
“Glad you came out?” Heath’s voice in my ear snaps me out of the temptation to take a little jaunt down memory lane. It’s a trip I do my best never to make, but nights like this make it hard not to think about the life I lived before.
What I used to be.
“I am.” It’s the truth. Mostly. It was nice to ride in a group again. It’s been years since I’ve been out like that. Years since I could stomach stepping that close to the line. “It’s been a long time.”
“How’s it feel?”
I sit on the question a minute. Letting the present and the past move across each other, waiting for the guilt that always creeps in when I think of the kind of man I used to be.
It comes, but not as heavy this time. The weight I will always carry more manageable today than it was yesterday. “Decent.”
“I’m glad.” Heath pulls his buzzing phone out of his pocket and sends a quick text. Probably Gabbi letting him know she made it home.
There will be no one texting my phone tonight. Or any night in the near future.
Unfortunately.
Heath shoves his phone back in place then leans in close, nodding across the bar. “I think that little filly over there might be lookin’ for a good time.”
A middle-aged woman sitting with a couple other women at a table in the corner gives me a wink when I look her way. I give her a polite nod and turn back to Heath.
The same man who wasn’t so interested in hooking me up a few minutes ago.
“You know I don’t like big...” Almost on cue, the woman giggles at something one of her friends says, causing her extremely large chest to bounce all over the place, threatening to spill out of the confines of her low-cut shirt.
“And, I’m not a good time.” I stand up, shoving the stool out as I go. “I’m gonna take that as my sign to call it a night.”
“You haven’t been out in forever man, and you’re going to go home at—” Heath checks his watch. “Holy shit it’s after one. We need to head out.” He jumps up, nearly knocking his stool down, grabbing it before it hits the floor. “When this crowd tries to leave it’s going to be ugly.”
I scan the still-packed bar. Heath’s right. Probably aren’t too many sober people here.
After throwing a couple extra bucks on the bar, I turn and follow Heath out, ready to get the hell out of Dodge. The closer it was to closing time, the higher the chances were of bikes and bodies banging together.
Not to mention the odds of getting pulled over.
And that would be a fucking nightmare for me. Most cops aren’t too friendly with felons.
“I’ll follow you until we’re well away from here.” Heath fires up his bike beside me.
I give him a nod as I start my own. My formerly decent mood darkens as we ride away from the bar, Heath following behind me just in case he needs to throw around his badge.
This is why I don’t go out. Because no matter what, it always ends like this.
Because no matter what I do, how successful and upstanding I become, at the end of the day I will always be what I was.
&nbs
p; Get your copy of Out Bad now!
Also By Janice M. Whiteaker
The Lost Boys MC Series
Tracking Numbers
Hawk Wild
Gypsy Soul
Cook’s Choice
Sinners or Saints Series
Out Bad
The BIG Series
Think you know the truth about the legend of Bigfoot?
You don’t.
Hagen
Magni
Lance
Jerrik
BIG Holiday
Joel
Thick as Thieves Series
Ring Tru
Make Me
Ready or Not
Never Waste a Second Chance Series
Run
Regret
Redeem
Hawk Wild (Lost Boys MC Book 2) Page 19