Driving Whiskey Wild

by Melissa Foster

  He gave her a softer, sweeter kiss, and then another, and a quick pat on her ass, before heading out of the bar.

  “Lollipop?” Dixie arched a brow as she lowered herself to the chair. “Boy, you two are as gone as Crystal and Bear.”

  Finlay took a gulp of her iced tea and nearly gagged on the salt. She spewed it back into the glass. That cleared the lust from my head. “Blech! Sorry. My mind has been on a hundred things lately.”

  Dixie handed her a napkin. “More than the big, bearded distraction that just walked out? Is something else going on?”

  “Yes. Although he’s the biggest distraction of all. You saw how I turned to mush when he kissed me. I feel like I’m eighteen, not a woman approaching thirty.”

  “You’ve just discovered the Whiskey magic,” Dixie said with a wave of her hand. “It’s a blessing and a curse, really. We can drop people to their knees with a single kiss. Trouble is, I can’t find anyone I want to drop to his knees.”

  “I’m sure we can find you a very willing partner. Crow was all eyes on you today, and that guy you were dancing with at Whispers? The doctor? Oh my gosh, Dixie, that guy has serious moves.”

  “Yeah. Jon Butterscotch touts himself as fifty shades of sweetness. My brothers would cut his pecker off if we ever even tried to hook up.”

  “Yikes. I could talk to Bullet, I mean, if you like Jon.”

  Dixie shook her head. “No thanks. I think I’ll be dating outside of Peaceful Harbor. It’s safer for everyone that way. But tell me what else is going on with you. You said you’ve had a million things on your mind. Is it your catering business?”

  “No. I’ve tabled most of that while I get you guys settled. I’m catering a baby shower next weekend, but that’s it until after your kitchen staff is hired and your menus are in place. I’m just worried about Sarah Beckley. Do you know about her family? The accident?”

  “Yes. It’s so sad. And thank God Bullet was there to help.”

  “I know. But don’t call him a hero or he’ll bite your head off.”

  “Yeah, he’s a little touchy about that word. He thinks everyone in the world is as brave as he is.” Dixie shook her head. “The truth is, all my brothers are brave, but Bullet? He takes bravery to a new level. My mom said when we were teenagers he’d troll the streets looking for people causing trouble so he could stop them. Like it was his job or something. And before he enlisted, there was some trouble with a gang about fifty miles from here, and he took off and was gone for four days. He came back bloody and worn out. My father was so angry. Bullet looked him in the eye and said, ‘Your friends won’t be seein’ any more trouble from them, Pop.’ He walked upstairs and slept for two days straight. He never said another word about it.”

  “Wow, Dixie, I can see him doing that.” And it no longer scared her to think about him doing that in the way it once had. Now she only worried for his safety.

  “The reason I’ve got a lot on my mind is that I’ve been bringing Sarah meals, and Bullet and I went to visit her this morning. Bradley is being released tomorrow, but her baby and her brother are still in intensive care. They’re going to have huge medical bills, and she’s got no family in the area. Her sister came to visit her the first night she was at the hospital, but she wasn’t able to stay, and Sarah wouldn’t say why, but she doesn’t want her ex knowing where she is. I worry about how she’s going to handle everything.”

  “We’re worried about it, too. That’s one of the things the guys are talking about tonight in the clubhouse.”

  “I was thinking that I could do a bake sale. Maybe I can get Crystal to make some outfits to raffle off at the boutique. I’m going to talk to Penny about setting up a donation jar on her counter.”

  “Hey, Dix,” Jed called from behind the bar. He nodded toward a group of guys who had been playing pool and were now making their way to a table.

  “I’d better get busy. Let me think about Sarah and see what I can come up with.” Dixie pushed to her feet. “Are you okay with setting up those interviews?”

  “Sure. Of course. Once I finish interviewing, I’ll give you my recommendations and then you can bring in the best applicants to screen them yourself. We’re still looking at two cooks and two dishwashers, right?”

  A guy who had been playing darts called out, “How about more of those cookies from the other night?”

  “She’s not your personal chef,” Dixie hollered across the room. “Maybe if you learn the word ‘please,’ she’ll think about it.” She turned back to Finlay with a spark of rebellion in her eyes. “It was my idea to expand the bar and bring in a chef and waitstaff, but I’ve got to tell you, the idea of bringing strangers in to work here scares the shit out of me. I hope I didn’t push for the wrong thing.”

  “We’ll be really careful about who we hire.”

  Dixie straightened her spine and wiggled her hips. “Time to go work some tips out of these loudmouths. You know, maybe you should talk to Bullet about a fundraising rally. We’ve done them before for people in the community.”

  “A rally?”

  “Yeah, you know. Host a ride that ends here at the bar or in town, and have a family-friendly community fair sort of thing, sell tickets, raffles, and the proceeds go to the family. I brought up the idea to them when we were talking about expanding the bar.”

  “Holy moly, Dixie. You’re a genius!”

  “I’m all kinds of Whiskey magic all rolled up into one hot mama.” Dixie laughed.

  “Come on, Dix,” the guy called over again.

  “Keep your pants on, or I’ll water down your drinks.” She winked at Finlay and strutted across the room.

  “A rally,” Finlay said to herself as she gathered the résumés and put them in her bag. She took out a notebook and jotted down ideas for a rally fundraiser. Half an hour later she had two pages full of notes. She was too excited to wait to tell Bullet. She stuffed her things into her bag and tossed it over her shoulder.

  “Hey, Jed,” she said as she passed by the bar. “Where’s the Dark Knights’ clubhouse?”

  Jed hiked a thumb over his shoulder toward the kitchen as he poured a drink. “Out the back door, straight across the lot about a hundred feet. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks!” She headed for the kitchen, excited to discuss Dixie’s idea with Bullet.

  BULLET SAT AT a table in the Dark Knights clubhouse with Bones and Bear, listening as their father, the president of the club, discussed club finances. Bear was busy texting, and he was smiling, which meant he was texting Crystal. Bones sat with his long legs stretched out before him, one arm slung over the back of his chair, the other lifting a beer bottle to his lips. His hair was finger combed, his jeans frayed where they rested on his boots, and his black tank top was untucked. There was no hint of Dr. Wayne Whiskey tonight, just good old Bones. Biker, brother, friend.

  Bear nudged Bullet, pulling him from his thoughts. He flashed a know-it-all grin and said, “You missed a kick-ass ride, and tonight you look like you’re just coming off one, which means Finlay’s really gotten under your skin.”

  Bullet grunted. Yeah, she’d gotten under his skin all right, making him think all sorts of crazy shit—like cutting back his hours at the bar. “You could say that.”

  “How’re you going to get her on a bike?” Bear asked.

  Bullet glared at him. He didn’t have the faintest idea how, or if he ever would, and as shocking as that thought was to him, he knew it wouldn’t change his feelings for her one bit. She’d done more than get under his skin. She’d crawled into his heart and staked her claim. They’d fallen asleep outside last night, and for the first time since he was a kid, he’d slept all night, and he’d slept hard. Not only was that a miracle, but waking up with his girl in his arms and his pup nuzzled by his side was the best feeling in the world. He wanted more lazy Sundays, more nights with her in his arms. He wanted more Finlay.

  Bones leaned forward, giving them both the stern Pop’s-talking-pay-some-respect look the
y seemed to take turns passing around like biscuits at a dinner table.

  The three of them returned their attention to their father. Biggs was the toughest, most intimidating man Bullet had ever known. Even now, with his thick gray beard and inked leatherish skin, he looked like he belonged on a bike, owning the road. His speech was slower since the stroke, the left side of his mouth interminably weighed down. But he still sported the same worn jeans he’d probably had for a decade, Dark Knights shirts, and leathers. He wore the patches with pride and would be buried with them, like his father and his father’s father before him. But a cane had become his constant companion, and riding was no longer in the cards for Biggs. Those deficits did nothing to lessen the man he was. They all knew damn well their father would toss that cane aside and jump into the middle of a fight if it was the right thing to do. Bullet wondered what the man he’d patterned himself after practically since birth would think if he knew Bullet was contemplating cutting back his hours to spend more time with Finlay.

  The thought came with a noose of guilt. If he wasn’t at the bar every night, who would look after Dixie and Red when they waitressed? Jed was a big dude, but he wasn’t Bullet.

  Biggs cleared his throat, pushed some papers to the side, and said, “We’ve got a couple of prospects we need to talk abou—”

  The doors to the clubhouse flew open, and Finlay burst in, her bright blue eyes smiling as they coasted over the shocked faces of the members. Aw, fuck. Bullet pushed to his feet. Her radiant smile lit up the damn clubhouse like a rainbow. All eyes were locked on her as she ran across the room, her blond hair flying out behind her and her sexy little dress flapping against her thighs.

  “Bullet—” She grabbed his hand, apparently oblivious to the fact that the room had gone silent, save for a few curious grumbles. “Oh my gosh! Your sister is brilliant! I know how we can help Sarah’s family. A rally!” She bounced on her toes like Kennedy did when she was excited. Only Finlay looked hot as fuck doing it, and she had no business in the clubhouse, which meant he was about to send that pretty fucking smile packing.

  And it was going to suck.

  Bear covered his face with his hand, trying to stifle a laugh. Bones grinned up at Bullet, who ground his back teeth as Biggs’s fingers curled around his cane and he pushed to his feet. Goddamn it.

  “Babe, you can’t be here.” Only men were allowed to attend church, which is what they called the Dark Knights meetings. Bullet put a hand on her back to guide her toward the door, but she was too excited, and the light in her eyes kept him from pushing too hard.

  “I know you’re talking with the guys, but this is super important.”

  “Not here, lollipop,” he said softer, knowing he’d get hell for that later from his brothers, but he couldn’t be harsh to Finlay. “Not now. You can’t be in here.” Had he forgotten to tell her about church? Shit.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt.” She turned and lifted her hand in a tentative wave around the room. “I know Bullet’s been worried, as I have, about the family that suffered that accident the other night. And Dixie mentioned doing a bike rally and fundraiser, so it would actually be good for you guys to all hear this.”

  She dug around in her bag as the din of the members rose. The looks being tossed their way were more curious—and appreciative of her beauty—than annoyed, which he was thankful for, because he was not thinking rationally, and if anyone pissed him off, God only knew what he’d do. He loved seeing Finlay in the clubhouse, in his world, the place where he’d spent more good times than bad for as long as he could remember. His club brothers might not be blood related, but they were just as much family as Bones and Bear were. And now he thought of Finlay that way, too. Knowing it was inappropriate for Finlay to be there during the meeting pissed him off more than her being there did. And that also brought a bucket of guilt.

  “I’ve got notes,” she said happily.

  Biggs limped over, serious eyes on Bullet.

  Seeing his sweet girl flanked by him and his father, the rest of the brotherhood watching, wondering what was going to go down, made Bullet’s gut tense up.

  “I’ve got this, Pop,” Bullet assured him.

  His father’s gaze dropped to Finlay, and his bushy mustache twitched as he said, “Finlay, nice to see you again, darlin’.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Whiskey…Biggs. I still have trouble calling you that.” She withdrew a notebook from her bag and turned to Biggs with a happy sigh. “I have some great ideas.”

  Chuckles from Bear and Bones earned harsh glares from Bullet as he took Finlay by the arm and led her toward the door. “Let’s go, babe. You can’t be in church.”

  “Church? I thought you were talking with the guys.” She spun around, her gaze surfing over the pool table, dartboards, and about thirty sets of eyes watching her. “There are no women here.” Her eyes widened. “Why aren’t there women here? This isn’t church.” She stepped out of his reach and headed back toward the center of the room.

  “Church is what we call our club meetings,” Biggs explained. “And I’m sorry, darlin’, but it’s just us men.” Biggs had been raised by a hard-core biker who lived by the old-school mentality of men bearing total responsibility for everything in life—family, the club, business. And part of that lifestyle meant protecting women at all costs, including keeping them buffered from the darker side of things with regard to the club.

  “Really? That’s so sexist, and archaic.” She shot a look at Bear. “Crystal is okay with this?”

  Bear nodded, trying—and failing—to school his amused expression.

  “Well, that seems weird in this day and age, but okay,” she said. “Can I just tell these guys about my ideas?” She flipped open the notebook.

  Some of the guys were shifting restlessly in their seats. Bullet took the notebook from her hands and ushered her toward the door. “Sorry, babe. Not here. Not now.”

  “But—”

  He knew he’d catch hell for it, but he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her deeply as he lifted her struggling body into his arms and carried her out the door. When they were a safe distance away from the clubhouse, he broke their connection and set her on her feet.

  “Bullet!” She huffed as she smoothed her dress. “I can’t believe you did that!”

  “You’re a baby chick in the middle of a cockfight in there. Sorry, Finlay, but no sweethearts allowed in the club.”

  “I heard that, but why?” She crossed her arms as arrogantly as she’d faced him the first day she’d come into the bar to meet with Dixie, and it still did something funky to his gut.

  “Because we discuss guy stuff. Club business.”

  “Guy stuff.” She rolled her eyes. “You said your club held family-friendly events, and Dixie’s in it, right? She’s a woman.”

  Goddamn it. “We do have family-friendly events, and the idea of a rally fundraiser is a good one. In fact, we have a charity ride coming up in a few weeks. We can piggyback off that,” he said, hoping to distract her from her other questions. He didn’t want to get into a pissing match over women’s rights or that kind of shit.

  “Perfect, and maybe we can end the ride here at the bar and do some sort of a grand opening for the kitchen.” She smiled and said, “Now, back to the boys club. What do you guys do in there?” Her eyes narrowing accusatorily. “Are there no women, or just no ‘sweethearts’ or girlfriends allowed?”

  She was jealous? Women didn’t get jealous over him. Well, hell, he felt good and bad about that, and it softened him enough to give her the answers she wanted. “No women at all, okay? Not during meetings.”

  “Whatever. I’m not used to that.” She shook her head.

  “I’m sure you’re not. But when we’re not meeting, when there are events, it’s cool; you can be there with me. And Dixie isn’t a member like the guys are. As the daughter of the president, she’s a princess, well respected.”

  “And Red? Where does she fit in? And Crystal?”

  “Red�
�s my father’s old lady. She’s the queen, babe, wife of the president. And Crystal’s Bear’s old lady. Everyone respects them.”

  “Well, you guys have strange ways of doing things. I hope you don’t think I’ll take a backseat in our relationship, or let you bully me.”

  He pulled her closer and gazed into her confident, determined eyes. “The only thing you’ll take a backseat on is my bike. Hopefully. Eventually. You’re my queen, Finlay Wilson, and I’ll protect you to the ends of the earth. But I need you to respect the brotherhood in the club. Women add a layer of trouble when you have a group of guys. People start hooking up; lines are drawn, loyalties divided. There are reasons for the archaic nature of the brotherhood, and none of those reasons have to do with a lack of respect for women. It’s just the opposite.”

  Her gaze softened, and a small, reluctant smile lifted her lips. “Well, I’d rather be your queen than your old lady, but I prefer to be called your girlfriend.”

  “I don’t care what I call you, lollipop, as long as I know you’re mine.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  BULLET HELD THE pink ribbon he’d tied to the gift he had for Finlay and dragged the cool metal lightly along her bare hip as she slept Thursday morning. Tinkerbell lay with her chin resting on his calf, her dark eyes following his movements along Finlay’s waist and up her arm. Finlay nuzzled against Bullet’s chest, making a sweet, sleepy noise. Between interviewing candidates for the kitchen staff at the bar, working on menus, and coordinating the fundraiser, which Bullet had gotten unanimous approval for Monday night, she’d been on a dead run. He was thankful she’d been brave enough to overcome her fear of dogs and get to know Tinkerbell, which allowed them to spend the nights together at his place, as they’d done ever since.

  He brushed his beard along her shoulder and kissed his way down her breastbone. She rolled onto her back with a heady sigh, eyes still closed as she reached for him. He loved how she always wanted him as much as he wanted her, but this time he gently moved her hands to the side and lowered his mouth over her nipple, teasing her with his tongue. She bowed off the mattress, mewling, her hands fisting in the sheets.