“I need something to make me feel happy again. I’m so depressed.” She hung her head as she kept circling the room.
Breanna caught her and pressed her close, her arms curling around the petite girl. “It’s going to be okay,” she soothed as she stroked her hair.
Chenoa’s breath hitched, and then her small shoulders began moving. Wetness dampened Breanna’s neck as she held the sobbing girl, running her hands up and down her back. For several minutes they stood in the middle of the room, Breanna giving comfort and Chenoa desperate for it. The teenager was in the dark abyss of addiction, and it would be a lifelong challenge to climb out of it and never go back.
Pulling away slightly, Chenoa wiped her nose with her hand. “Thanks. Sorry for the meltdown.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.
“You don’t ever have to thank me for helping you out. Believe me, I know how hard this is for you. I want to help you. You can’t do this alone.”
“Yeah, well… I wanted to tell you thanks for everything.” She looked down at the floor and shifted from one foot to another.
“Your mom tells me that when you get out of here, she’s taking you on a major shopping spree. I know how you love clothes and makeup. I took your advice and invested a bit of money, bought a beautiful mauve lipstick from Lancôme. It was expensive, but what a difference.”
The mention of makeup made Chenoa smile and she happily engaged in conversation, telling Breanna about the different cosmetic lines. Breanna exhaled slowly, content that she had momentarily distracted Chenoa from the pull of heroin. Chenoa sank down in the chair and Breanna sat down in the one facing her, her back to the door.
As they chatted, the scent of the desert and the wind wisped around her, and she knew he’d come in. She held her breath; she’d been wanting to see him since their last encounter at his mother’s house.
“I seem to run into you a lot. You must really like my family.” His deep voice caressed her like black velvet as he walked past her and went over to Chenoa, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. He ruffled her hair. “How’s my sunshine doing?”
She shrugged. “Okay. I just can’t wait to go home. Breanna and I were talking about makeup. She said Mom was gonna take me on a huge shopping trip when I get home. I bet we’re gonna go to Colorado Springs, or even Denver.”
“Is that right?” He glanced at Breanna. She caught his gaze, her insides jumping when she saw desire lacing them. “Sounds like you gotta hurry and get better.” His eyes still held Breanna’s as his lips twitched into a half smile.
She couldn’t turn away; she felt magnetically drawn toward him. He mesmerized her, pulling her in even though she wanted to break away and leave. She needed to get far away from him. He made her think of ecstasy-filled nights with his full lips exploring every inch of her body while his fingers trailed to the aching place between her legs, parting them open and teasingly sliding—
“You okay, Breanna? Your face is really flushed.” Chenoa’s voice broke in on her musings.
“I… uh….” She stopped as his eyes slowly traveled up her body. She sat immobile, biting the inside of her cheek when his gaze landed on her chest. His stare was hotter than the summer sun.
“I think Ms. Quine may be having a hot flash.” He raised his brows as a smirk played across his lips.
She pushed up from the chair. “I’m fine, Chenoa.” She purposely avoided looking at him, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her. His green eyes burned with desire and danger. The pulse between her legs made her clench them together, and he chuckled. Angry at her body for reacting to him so strongly, she threw her shoulders back and raised her chin. “I should let you and your dad have some time together. I have to get going. I’ll try and come by over the weekend. You have my number if you need anything.” She grasped the strap on her shoulder bag and walked toward the door. “Bye, Chenoa.”
“You’re not gonna say goodbye to me? Where are your manners, Ms. Quine?” His tone mocked her, and she wanted to slap him hard against his face.
“Goodbye, Mr. McVickers.”
“It’s always a treat to see how nervous I can make you.”
She whirled around, anger burning her gut. “You don’t make me nervous. I rarely let myself get flustered. Maybe you like thinking that your badass demeanor scares people. I don’t know. I’m a social worker, not a psychologist.”
He laughed and leaned against the wall, his finely toned body apparent beneath his tight black jeans, white muscle shirt that molded over his torso, and his drool-worthy biceps. “I don’t think shit, lady. I know. Men avoid me and women clamor to me. They like the danger element. It makes them check me out and get all flushed. Kind of like you just were.”
“Dad!” Chenoa reached out and grabbed his wrist.
If Breanna could look in a mirror, she knew her face would resemble a tomato. Steel winked at her, then turned to his daughter. “I’m just teasing your caseworker, sunshine. She knows it. We’re just having a little fun, aren’t we, Ms. Quine?”
Breanna looked at Chenoa’s puzzled face and smiled. “Yes. You take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.” She spun around and walked out the door, the intensity of Steel’s stare boring into her.
When she went outside, she gulped in the warm air like she was starving. I have to get a grip. I acted like a schoolgirl back there. He makes me so fucking mad! He’s despicable. And so damn sexy. She groaned. She’d have to figure out a way to limit her contact with him. Next time she saw his mother she’d find out his schedule and plan her drop-ins to Chenoa and his mother when he was at work.
He’s so damn cocky. Thinks every woman’s waiting for him. Yeah, right. She’d show him she wasn’t every woman. Now if only her body behaved, she’d be as good as gold.
She slid into the driver’s seat and switched on the ignition. As she drove out of the parking lot, she spotted a wicked-looking Harley, the fading rays of the sun bouncing off the chrome, and she just knew it was his. An image of her arms wrapped around his hard, tapered waist, her breasts pressed against his back as he rode fast and furious, made her tingle. I wonder if he screws as hard as he rides. Her legs clenched again; it seemed like that was becoming their response when she saw or thought of him. There was no way her body was going to behave around him. The best course of action was to avoid him altogether.
She drove out of the parking lot, cranked up the music, and ignored the way her body quivered.
Chapter Seven
Cuervos Bar was packed and Breanna’s feet were already screaming at her after just a few hours. As long as the men were focused on the sporting events on the big-screen TVs, they were cool, but if they weren’t interested in the sport, they were focused on her cleavage and her butt. She and another girl, Jill, who was busty and skinny, were the only waitresses on duty. She didn’t have time to think about anything but getting drinks to the customers.
“You doing okay?” Jorge asked as she placed the beers and mixed drinks on her tray.
“I think so. I didn’t expect it to be this busy.” She grabbed a handful of coasters.
“Not a lot of things to do in Alina on the weekend. Also, Fridays are usually payday for most of the people. They like to come and spend it here. I’m good with that.” Jorge smiled broadly.
She laughed. “I’m beginning to like payday Friday too. I’ve done well so far with my tips. I better get these drinks to the customers.” She lifted the heavy tray and made her way through the maze of people. Black Sabbath’s “Crazy Train” blared from the jukebox, and she sang along with it as she placed down the drink orders at various tables.
When she went back to the bar for more drinks, Jill leaned against it, messing with her phone. “Hey,” she said as she lifted her head.
“Hey. Where’s Jorge?” Breanna looked around the bar but didn’t spot him.
Jill shrugged. “I’ve been waiting here for about five minutes. If he doesn’t get here soon, people are gonna take it out on me and n
ot give me good tips.” Breanna set down her tray and went behind the bar. “What the fuck are you doing? Jorge’s gonna be pissed.”
“He hired me for waitressing and to be a relief bartender. No one’s tending the bar, so tell me your order.” She filled Jill’s order, a couple of others from patrons seated at the bar, and then she started on hers. She bent over and opened a cabinet filled with liquor bottles, pulling them out while trying to find the Bloody Mary mix. As she was scrounging around, she felt two hands on her hips, thumbs pressing into her behind.
“Nice ass,” a deep voice said.
Outraged, she jumped up. “Get your hands off me!” She whirled around and crashed into six feet one inch of pure concrete. Steel, to be exact. As in Chenoa’s father, outlaw biker, and gorgeous man.
What the fuck?
The smile on his face disappeared. “What the hell are you doing behind my bar?”
“Your bar? I thought Jorge owned it.” She brushed away several tendrils that had fallen across her face.
He shook his head. “Fuck. You’re the new waitress Jorge hired. He told me he hired a hot-looking chick, but I never thought it was you. I thought butting your nose into people’s lives was your thing.” He leaned back on his heels and boldly assessed her. Self-conscious, she pulled her skirt down and tried to raise her top. “I don’t think that’s gonna work. You’ve got some dangerous curves, Ms. Quine. Now you look like my kind of woman.”
She felt heat spreading over her neck and cheeks, and she swallowed hard. “Instead of checking me out, make yourself useful and tend bar. Jorge’s disappeared and I have a bunch of people waiting for their drinks.”
“You like being bossy, don’t you? I like it, to a certain degree.”
“I couldn’t care less what you like, Mr. McVickers. If you want your customers happy, you’ll cut the small talk and start filling my and Jill’s drink orders.” She stepped forward, but instead of moving out of the way, he stepped to the side slightly, making her slide past him, her breasts brushing against him. Jolts of desire shot through her, and from the heated glaze in his eyes, she knew he was feeling something too. She hurriedly pushed herself into the crowd to get away from his penetrating stare. He exuded danger and raw sex, and it both thrilled and scared her. She couldn’t get involved with him. If she did, she knew she’d be setting herself up for a major heartbreak. Bikers were like her dad: selfish, unfaithful, and cocky assholes.
For the rest of the night he stared at her, and it made her so nervous that she spilled several drinks, which resulted in either no tips or small ones. Jorge didn’t tell me he had a partner. I can’t believe he’s my boss. I can’t believe he’s seen me dressed like a slut. The way he kept looking at her legs and cleavage made her mind scream in anger. It also made her body tingle, and she was beyond pissed about that.
“Can you grab me some cocktail napkins at the bar?” Breanna asked Jill as she passed by. The less time she spent at the bar, the better. She had no choice when she had orders, though, and each time she went up, his gaze locked with hers, pulling her in. It seemed like he’d tattooed a smirk on his face because he wore one every time she glanced at him.
He’s so infuriating!
“They’re all out. I was gonna grab some in the back, but I got two large parties. Can you get them?”
“Sure. Are they in the last room on the left?”
“Yep.”
Breanna put the drinks down on the table and ambled to the storage room. As she rummaged through the shelves looking for the napkins, she heard the door close behind her. She stiffened as the scent of leather floated in the air. It’s him. She placed her hand on her stomach, hoping it would stop the fluttering.
“Need some help?” His voice slayed her every time she heard it.
“I’m good.” If I don’t turn around, maybe he’ll leave.
“You’re really not. The cocktail napkins are on the other side of the room.”
“I’m not looking for them.” He’s so cocky.
“Jill told me you were. Why can’t you admit you’re wrong? Do you need therapy to help you do that?” He chuckled.
She gritted her teeth and turned around. “Look, I don’t like you and you don’t like me. We have to work together for your daughter’s sake, and I need a second job to make ends meet. If you want me to go, just say it. I can find another job.”
His green eyes pierced the distance between them. She held her breath, her heart beating so fast she was sure it’d break through her rib cage. A deep fire blazed in his gaze, but it was one of desire, not anger. She stood immobile as he came over and grabbed hold of her shoulders, drawing her to him. She titled her head back and he crushed his lips on hers—fiery, passionate, and demanding. She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t; she was losing herself in the kiss.
“Breanna,” he whispered, and she savored the way he said her name, her heart pounding at his voice. He pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips and she parted them, allowing him in. Their tongues tangled as their breath mingled, and she ran her fingers down his back, tugging him closer until there was no space between them, until she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest.
When his hands started to slide under her miniskirt, she broke away and pushed back. He cupped her chin and tilted her head back. “We both want this.” He gently brushed his lips across hers. She wanted to throw caution aside and press into him, fusing her body with his as they had wild sex, but her brain kept niggling at her. He was her client’s father, a biker, and off-limits. She had stepped on the line, but if she went any further, she’d definitely be crossing it. She couldn’t do that.
“I lost my head for a moment,” she mumbled as she pushed away from him.
“I have that effect on women.” He chuckled as he held her gaze.
She pressed her lips together as she finger-combed her messed-up hair. “Is this the way you initiate all the waitresses on their first night?”
“Pretty much.” He smiled but his tone was harsh, like he was pissed at her.
She grabbed a large pack of cocktail napkins. “Does your club own part of the bar?”
“Just me. Jorge and I go back a long time. We’ve been buds since we were ten years old. His dad owned this bar, and when his old man got sick, Jorge asked if I wanted to be part owner. I had some money saved, so I bought into it. I’m rarely around. I have enough to do with the club’s businesses. I had no idea Jorge hired you. Fucking small world, right?”
“You said it. I better get back out there. I’m sure Jill’s cussing me out for taking so long.” She grasped the doorknob and turned it. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled weakly. “About what happened… it’d be best if we forgot about it.”
He took a small box from one of the shelves. “No worries, Ms. Quine. It’s forgotten.”
Her shoulders slumped as a heaviness spread throughout her body. “That’s good,” she said softly, then walked out of the room. For the rest of her shift, she snuck peeks at him, but he was either serving drinks, laughing with several bikers in the bar, or flirting with the women. She didn’t catch his eye once.
That’s what I wanted, so why am I feeling like shit because he’s not paying any attention to me? Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do need therapy.
Once her shift was over, she grabbed her purse and left the bar. She couldn’t wait to get home and soak her feet in a tub of warm water and Epsom salts.
Steel hadn’t been at the bar when she left. She wasn’t sure where he was. She’d spotted him cozying up to a woman who was practically spilling out of her ill-fitting top an hour before her shift ended. He’s probably banging her in the same room he kissed me. These bikers are all alike.
She slid into the driver’s seat and put her car in gear, gripping the steering wheel firmly, perturbed that she cared about him flirting with a woman. It was crazy. He was a free agent, as was she. They didn’t even like each other, so why did she feel pissed, irritated, and disappointed at the same time? I have
to quit. I won’t be able to work around him. I’m sure I can find another waitressing job fast. Thoughts of what would have happened if she had let him go further swirled in her mind as she made her way home.
Once inside her abode, she kicked off her heels and moaned as she rubbed the balls of her feet. She took out a teal plastic tub and turned on the water, laying down a thick bath towel on the floor before placing the tub on top of it. She stirred in half a cup of Epsom salts and dragged one of her straight-backed chairs over, then lowered her aching feet into the warm, soothing water. It felt divine, like a slice of heaven.
She glanced at her phone and noticed four missed calls. Her stomach tightened as she scrolled through the numbers, praying that they weren’t from Nicholas. Relief flooded over her when she heard Nicholas’s landlady’s voice. She’d left four messages, the anger in her voice palpable by the last one. She emphasized that Nicholas was one month behind on his rent and if it wasn’t brought current, she’d have no choice but to evict him.
Breanna sighed. She’d just given him three hundred dollars to help pay his rent, which obviously went into his bloodstream instead of to his landlady. Tears stung her eyes. She took her feet out of the water and dried them, then went over to her purse, pulling out the wad of bills she’d received as tips that night. She counted the money and was shocked by the amount; she’d be able to cover Nicholas’s rent and then some.
She put the money back into her purse. I have to keep this job. The money’s too good. I’ll just keep my distance from him. It shouldn’t be hard since Steel seems to have a short attention span when it comes to women. All I have to remember is to not be alone with him or do something I’ll regret.
She switched off the lights and ambled to her bedroom. Undressing, she slipped between the covers. With her body aching and exhausted, she fell fast asleep.
Chapter Eight
“Damn, you’ve got a hot waitress working for you. I’d like a piece of her. Who is she?” Sangre asked as he threw back a shot of Jack that Steel placed in front of him.
STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1) Page 6