River of Love

by Melissa Foster

  “No, it sounds honest.” And I love that about you.

  “Do you come here a lot?” she asked.

  “Not a lot. Every few weeks.” Sam had stumbled upon Whiskey’s when he’d first graduated from college and returned to Peaceful Harbor. He’d been out for a bike ride, looking for a place to clear his head, and he’d been coming ever since.

  “Why? I don’t mean that in a bad way, but why so far out of town when there are so many places near home?”

  “Everyone needs an escape.” He took her hand in his, loving that she seemed more at ease. “Except from you. I don’t need an escape from you.”

  She dropped her eyes shyly, then met his gaze and tilted her head, as if she was trying to figure him out. “Your life seems full of fun, with your adventure company, friends, your family.”

  “My life is full, and it’s great, but sometimes it’s too much.” He never would have admitted that to anyone else, but he wanted Faith to know who he really was, and that meant not holding anything back. “It’s nice to come here where no one expects me to do anything but kick back, talk, or chill.”

  “Funny. I can’t imagine you relaxing. You’re always on the go.”

  “Not always on the go,” he said. “The Rough Riders barbecue is coming up, and I was assuming you’d be my date, but I should formally ask, right? Will you go with me? Hopefully we can enjoy some downtime together.” He leaned forward and couldn’t resist adding, “Would you like to get down with me, Faith Hayes?”

  The space between them sizzled, drawing his emotions to the surface. He loved the caged tigress look simmering in her eyes, like she wanted to play but felt like she shouldn’t. He was feeling her out, pushing her limits a little at a time. Letting her know that even though he was behaving himself, it was goddamn hard, because she was sexy and enticing and he wanted her more than she probably allowed herself to believe.

  “You don’t like naughty talk?” He held her gaze, loving the hitch in her breathing.

  She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, half please don’t make me answer, and looked sinfully adorable. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, which already felt familiar. He couldn’t wait to nuzzle against it, to kiss it, to trap it between his teeth and suck until she begged for more. Down boy.

  “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I won’t take your sweetness away.”

  She stared into his eyes, exuding femininity and lust, all behind some kind of invisible cloak of forbidden fruit. Just when he thought she’d turn away, she broke the silence.

  “I’m not that sweet.” Her tone was pure temptress. “I say those things…in my head.” She touched his lower lip with the tip of her finger in a slow, alluring swipe. He knew she was as lost in them as he was.

  “If you try hard enough, I bet you can hear it, too.” She pressed her mouth to his, taking him by surprise, and oh, hell yes, her tongue parted his lips eagerly. The kiss electrified, sparking through his body like a dozen live wires. She pulled away in one sharp move, leaving him hard and desperate for more.

  Touching her finger to her lips, as if they were burning for another kiss, just as his were, she asked, “Did you hear it?”

  Before he could get the blood to move north and feed his brain, Bullet brought their drinks and leaned down, speaking low in Sam’s ear. “Bear wants to take you in darts. That cool with your girl here? I’ll tell him to bug off if you want to hang.”

  Faith blinked several times, her smile spreading wider, her eyes never wavering from his. “I love darts. You should play, or play teams and I’ll be on your team. I mean, if you don’t mind. I’m pretty good.”

  Bullet looked as perplexed as Sam was. “You play darts?”

  She nodded excitedly. “My dad taught us all to play, and I played all the time in college.”

  “Damn, Braden. Where have you been hidin’ this sweet little lady?” Bullet nodded at Faith. “You want to play, sweetheart, we’ll put a game together.”

  **

  BY THE SURPRISED and still heated look in Sam’s eyes, Faith was sure she’d actually turned into some sort of vixen. She had no idea where that kiss had come from, but the urge to take control had hit her like a gale-force wind. It felt so good to break free from her own mental confines and kiss the hell out of him. And that kiss—Jesus, every kiss with him—made her whole body come to life. The atmosphere in this dimly lit, out-of-the-way bar where no one knew her felt dangerous and edgy, amping up her desire to be that way.

  “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” she said to Sam.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” He leaned closer and said, “I heard every naughty word circling that pretty little head of yours.”

  “Ohmygod. I can’t believe I said that.” Laughter burst from her mouth, making Sam laugh, too. “It’s this place. No one here knows me, so it’s easier to…play.”

  “We’re not so different, you and I.” Sam’s eyes turned serious. “I spent my life playing around because it was what was expected of me, and I was too lost in it to realize I was playing a role. You’ve spent your life being cautious, because it’s been who you are. Maybe Whiskey Bro’s is the perfect place for both of us.”

  She looked around at the muscular guy behind the bar, with tatted-up biceps and a five-o’clock shadow as dark as Sam’s. He was watching the band, his head bobbing to the beat. He could have easily been a bartender at Whispers. She shifted her eyes around the room, taking in the jeans- and leather-clad people. A couple sat at a table near the band, as focused on each other as she and Sam were. To their left was a table of burly guys; one guy was completely bald, sporting a thick beard and mustache, another had closely cropped hair and tattooed shoulders, and the others were pretty nondescript. Other than the nodded greetings she’d noticed—to Sam, to Bullet, to her—everyone kept to themselves. Her father had drilled into her head that bikers were dangerous, and she’d wrongly assumed he was right. There was no denying the contented look in Sam’s eyes or the newfound feeling of freedom whirling inside her. She’d sorely misjudged this place, and the people in it, the same way she’d misjudged Sam—based on other people’s opinions and her own skewed views.

  “No wonder you like it here,” she said. “I get that now. It’s nice to be able to let down your guard.”

  “No more book covers?” He arched a brow, his eyes alit with his secret message.

  “No more book covers.”

  “Bones!” The guy behind the bar hollered, startling Faith. He nodded toward the short-haired guy with tattooed shoulders. “You’re with me. Dixie!” He lifted his chin toward a waitress Faith hadn’t noticed. She wore tight jeans and a half shirt that read Whiskey Bro’s. Her flame-red hair cascaded in gentle waves nearly to her waist.

  “Yes, brother dearest?” she said with a smirk.

  “You’re with Braden and Braden’s Girl,” the bartender answered.

  Her heart leaped. Braden’s Girl.

  “Faith,” Sam called out to him. He stood, bringing Faith up with him, and tucked her beneath his arm.

  “I liked Braden’s Girl,” she said quietly.

  He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Just making sure everyone knows who you are beyond being mine. I’m getting you a sweatshirt that says ‘Braden’s Girl.’”

  Bam! She fell a little harder for him for that.

  “The bartender’s name is Bear. Bear, Bullet, Bones, and Dixie are siblings.”

  “Where did they get those names?” She’d heard of biker names, but she was curious about how they came up with them.

  “Bones is a doctor,” Sam explained. “Bullet was in the Special Forces.” He stopped talking as Dixie set her eyes on them.

  She had a mouthful of bubble gum and popped a bubble as she set a serving tray on the edge of the bar, then made a beeline for Faith. Her hips swayed like a model on a catwalk. She wore black boots with spiked heels that tapped with each step, and when she reached Faith she crossed her arms over her chest and openly eyed
her from head to toe. Faith’s nervousness returned, and she was glad for Sam’s arm around her.

  “How’s it going, Dix?” Sam asked.

  Dixie shifted her pretty green eyes to Sam, back to Faith, and then to Sam again. “How long have I known you, Braden?”

  “Couple of years,” Sam said casually.

  Her eyes narrowed. “How many women have you brought in here?”

  Oh God. Here it comes. This isn’t really a special place, is it?

  “None,” he said with the same cool confidence as he did everything.

  Dixie set those green eyes on Faith again and stopped chewing the wad of gum long enough for a wide, radiant smile to form across her lips, showing her perfectly straight pearly white teeth. She was stunning despite her rough demeanor. Faith held her breath, waiting for the shoe of reality to bonk her in the head.

  “Damn, girl,” Dixie said. “You must be something special to be under this man’s arm in this place.” She pulled Faith right out of Sam’s arms and hugged her. “Welcome to Whiskey’s. It’s about time someone livened up this man’s life. He’s been wasting it for too many years.”

  Faith couldn’t imagine Sam wasting one minute of his life. He was too effervescent, too interested in going, doing, seeing.

  “Dixie Whiskey,” Sam said. “Let me formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Faith Hayes.”

  “I think I got the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing by the way you were sucking face at the table and that ‘stay away from my girl’ thing you got going on.” She pointed to his arms, then his face. “You two are real cute together.”

  Faith warmed at the compliment. Sam was an intense and enigmatic person, and she wasn’t either of those things. She was confident, and she liked to believe she was a fun person. But her fun and Sam’s lifestyle were so different that she was sure people would wonder what he was doing with her, just as she had. Although, the better she got to know him, the more she realized they weren’t that different after all. And now, as she left Dixie’s arms and saw the pride in Sam’s eyes, she realized that it wouldn’t matter what anyone thought of their relationship.

  Dixie hugged Sam. Then she put an arm around Faith and dragged her away from him. “We’re teammates. You, me, and Sam against my cocky brothers. We’ll kick their butts.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Dixie glanced at her name above the Rough Riders logo on her sweatshirt. “He’s claiming you well and good, isn’t he?”

  Faith couldn’t suppress her grin.

  “Sam’s one of the good ones. They’re hard to find.”

  Yes, they are. Faith heard Sam laugh and their eyes connected. His gaze conveyed his earlier words: Good luck keeping me off of you tonight. But in her head it was her saying them.

  “Girl, you two’ve got it bad,” Dixie said in a low voice. “You need to take that man back home and tear his clothes off before you do it here on the floor.”

  Faith tore her eyes from Sam, the image of them having sex on the floor of Whiskey’s seared into her mind. First the break room table at work, now here. Was no place safe from their fictitious sex life?

  She sensed Sam’s presence behind her before she felt his arm claim her waist. She leaned in to him, feeling safe and happier than she’d been in a long time. She loved that Sam wasn’t trying to win her over like guys usually did on the first few dates. He was just Sam, and that was so much more than enough. The others gathered, and Sam introduced her to Bear while Bones and Dixie gave each other a hard time about who was going to lose.

  “Hey, sugar. Good luck,” Bear said with a lift of his chiseled chin. He had a rugged, handsome face and deep-set honey-colored eyes that Faith was sure bought him a ticket just about anywhere.

  “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart,” Bullet said to Faith. “What do you know how to play? Shanghai? Killer? Legs? Baseball?”

  “I can play all of those, or Cricket or Round the World.” Faith noticed Bear and Bones trading glances, then giving Sam a look she couldn’t read. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Staking claim again? A little thrill jogged through her.

  “Shanghai,” Bones said, now openly staring at Faith.

  “Faith?” Dixie motioned for her to go first.

  “Show them what you’ve got.” Sam patted her on the ass.

  Between Bones watching her intently, Sam’s ass pat, and going first in the game, Faith’s nerves were on fire. She drew in a deep breath, mentally going over the rules of Shanghai. The goal was to hit the numbers in sequence, one, two, three, and so on, but only one number was in play during each turn. She needed to hit number one with all three darts to gain the highest score.

  “You’ve got this, sweetheart,” Bullet encouraged, making her more nervous.

  Faith closed her eyes for a second, centering her mind and letting her shoulders relax. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

  There were two ways to win: either having the highest score at the end of the game or scoring a Shanghai—hitting the single, double, and triple of the number in play. The thin outer doubles ring counted as twice the number scored, and the thin inner triples ring counted as three times. That was Faith’s specialty. She was that good. But now, with her nerves on fire, she wasn’t sure she could hit one, much less three.

  She should have had a drink. Or three.

  She opened her eyes and focused solely on the board, tuning out the music, the ass pat, and the conversations going on around her. The slim dart felt comfortingly familiar as she drew her hand back and released it. It sailed through the air in a perfect line, landing directly on number one.

  Before she could stop herself, “Yes!” came out, and she jumped into the air. As soon as her feet hit the ground she wanted to curl into a ball with embarrassment.

  “That’s my girl!” Sam pulled her into a kiss, alighting her nerves for a completely different reason.

  Bullet nodded appreciatively. “Damn, sweetheart, you nailed it.”

  Sam pressed his scruffy cheek to hers and said, quietly enough for only her ears, “You’re so adorable I want to play darts with you in my cabin. Naked.”

  She gasped a breath as her entire body reacted, from her pert nipples to the heat simmering between her legs.

  “Just trying to give you something else to think about.”

  “Why?” she whispered. “Do you want to lose?”

  His eyes smoldered. “No. I want to win—you.”

  He stepped away, leaving her to try to act like he hadn’t just rocked her world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  WHEN IT CAME to Faith, Sam couldn’t behave. At least not entirely. He was completely, utterly taken with her. When her cheeks pinked up or she did something out of character from her normally in-control personality, he couldn’t resist bringing out more of her playful side. After the first round of darts, when his comment about playing darts naked had thrown her so off-balance that her darts barely made it to the dartboard, she’d started firing innuendos back. Every furtive glance, every heated word, every sensual touch, made Faith temptation overload, testing Sam’s control to the very edge. He’d been sporting wood ever since. Thank God his shirt hung low enough to cover it.

  Faith stood beside him now, her hand shoved deep in his back pocket, her fingers making slow strokes over his ass. Her other hand rested on his abs beneath his shirt, two fingers hooked into the waistband just above his zipper.

  They were down to the final round. The guys and Dixie had been joking and chatting with Faith all evening. Sam had wondered how he’d feel, revealing one of his most private lairs to Faith, but he didn’t feel like he’d lost his privacy. Being there with Faith made it better.

  She gazed up at him with a look that said, I want you, warring with another look he’d come to know so well—I need to behave. He wondered if she could read him as easily—Be with me. I’ll be good to you.

  Torture.

  “I just figured out where I know you from,” Bones said to Fait
h.

  Faith swallowed hard and half smiled at Bones. Sam could tell she was too entrenched in the lingering sexual tension between them to give Bones her full attention.

  “Where?” Sam asked, coming to her rescue.

  Bones was about as clean cut as they came, and when he wore shirts that covered his ink, with his businesslike haircut and serious eyes, he looked as out of place as Sam knew Faith had felt when they’d first arrived. But now, with his five-o’clock shadow, wearing a faded black tank top, jeans, and black biker boots, with his tattoos on display and a beer in his hand, he fit right in.

  “The hospital,” Bones answered. “You work with Jon Butterscotch, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Faith snapped out of her Sam-trance and pulled her hands from his body. He knew she worried about her professional image, and he could see that worry filling her eyes. “How do you know him?”

  “I’m an oncologist. ‘Bones’ sounded better than ‘Doc.’ I must have seen you there.”

  “I sometimes assist him in surgeries.” Her eyes darted to Sam, then back to Bones.

  Bones must have caught her nervousness, too, because he smiled and said, “Don’t worry. There’s nothing wrong with being here. Butterscotch wouldn’t care if he knew.”

  “Oh, it’s not that.” Her voice quivered with the fib.

  Sam put his arm around her, hoping to calm her nerves.

  Bones laughed. “I became a doctor so I wouldn’t have to worry about what my bosses thought of my lifestyle. I get it. But, really, I know Jon, and unless you’re out causing trouble, the guy doesn’t care what you do in your spare time.”

  She let out a relieved breath.

  Bones turned to Sam and said, “But I bet your brother will have something to say about you bringing Faith here. He’s pretty conservative.”

  “I’ll handle Cole,” Sam assured Faith more than Bones. He felt her entire body stiffen and lifted her chin with his finger, gazing into her eyes and wishing he could take her worries away once and for all. “I’ve got this. I promise.” He lowered his lips to hers as Bones turned away, and kissed her again, until her body relaxed in to him.