by Debra Kayn
Her hands fisted the front of his shirt as she arched higher. He stroked her with his tongue only to have her kissing him back.
Scarlett moaned. He pressed his hard cock against her. She raised her leg, brushing her inner thigh against the outside of his jeans.
She wasn't telling him no. He wasn't giving her a choice.
Scarlett sucked his lower lip, letting it go to kiss him deeply. He groaned, taken back to the first time she'd tried that skill. She'd gotten better, and he damned the man, the men, who'd had that time with her to let her practice.
That kiss was his.
She was his.
He wanted her then. He wanted her now.
Scarlett groaned and pulled back. "I...can't."
"You can." He leaned forward to show her, and she pushed against his chest.
Breathing heavily, he let her go. "Why the fuck do you keep coming over if you don't take what you want?"
"I don't..." She grimaced, pacing in front of him. "I can't do this with you."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because I have a boyfriend." She threw her arms out to the sides of her. "Shit. I can't do this. Jerry doesn't—"
"Fuck him." He turned away.
He hadn't had a woman in over ten years. Scarlett was not just any woman. She belonged to him, whether she wanted to deny it or not. Whether he could have her or not.
Whatever she had with Jerry could never compare to what they'd had ten years ago. She was a liar if she wanted to claim differently.
He was on the other side of that kiss she gave him. He damn well knew how she felt about him.
"I'm sorry." She touched his back. "I never came over here to do that or to kiss you back. God, you frustrate me. We were friends. I care about you."
He laughed harshly because she knew their relationship was much more than a friendship. "Run back to Jerry, fox. Play it safe."
Her hand left his body. "What does that mean?"
He turned and gazed at her. "It means you better run because if you're here, I'm going to fuck you."
"I have a boy—"
"No, you don't." His gaze lowered to her breasts. "You may think you do, but Jerry hasn't made you feel the way I just made you feel with that kiss."
Her jaw dropped.
"Keep your mouth open, and I'll take that as an invitation to fill it," he murmured.
She whirled around and hurried out of the garage, her ass swishing side to side. He watched her go around the building toward the back, heading toward the fence. Walking outside, he stopped. He'd seen her struggle to make it under the fence last time.
A minute later, she marched toward him, away from the fence, on her way to the sidewalk. She was too old to crawl under the fence.
She glared straight ahead, refusing to look at him. Her arms swung with each step.
His cock, still hard from the kiss, pulsed to the beat of her angry stride. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the end. If she wanted to run away from him, he would chase her down and prove that his Scarlett was still there, wanting him back.
Chapter 18
Scarlett
THE MEN WAITED AT THE dartboards to begin the Friday night tournament. Scarlett carried four small boxes to the table, gathering them around.
"Ready?" She used the scissors to cut the sealed band and opened each box.
Montana men took their dart games seriously. In return, Jerry made sure there were brand new darts available every Friday. Personal darts were reserved for pay-out games on Saturday.
She found the whole process amusing, not being a dart player herself.
All four teams starting the round gave their approval. She backed away from the table and let them run the show.
Lorraine waved her over. "Can you help me put the tables back in a line?"
"Sure." She set the scissors down and picked up the edge of the table.
The heavy bases made it a two-person job. Once four tables were next to each other in the middle of the room, she returned to the counter. The Tarkio members arrived, and she looked through the crowd of faces and spotted Nelson in the middle of them.
Unlike the others, he never wore a vest with the patches on. Unless things had changed since he got out of prison, Nelson wasn't a member of the motorcycle club. He'd grown up with a couple of the members, and before he was arrested spent time with them.
He gazed at her intently, challenging. Her face warmed. He knew what she was thinking. She couldn't help but think he was hers. There were at least sixty people in the bar, and none of them had the connection with her that Nelson had, including Jerry.
She glanced at the end of the bar. Jerry was eyeing the group while drying off a glass. Worried that Nelson would start something after telling her Jerry wasn't worth her time, she looked back at him.
He grabbed the closest chair in front of him and sat. The whole time, amusement flashed in his gaze. Inside, he was laughing at her.
She hated that.
Refusing to prove his theory that Jerry meant nothing to her, she walked to the end of the bar.
Leaning against Jerry, she said, "If you have a moment—"
"I don't." He lowered his head and, next to her ear, whispered, "Who's that guy with the bikers that keeps looking at you?"
"Who?" She tried to turn away, giving her time to think of an answer, and Jerry stopped her.
"Don't worry about it." Jerry glanced over her shoulder. "I'll find out who he is, and get rid of him."
"A paying customer is a good customer." She put her hand on his chest to stop him from kicking Nelson out. "I'm going to work the floor while Lorraine and Oliva get caught up with the new arrivals. Don't forget to sign the checks in the office when you have time. If it gets busy, I can cover the register for you while you do it. It's the fifteenth of the month. Everyone expects to get paid."
"Right." He kissed her quickly. "I'll get on that. Don't forget, you owe me a home-cooked meal."
She laughed, remembering their bet from last month. He swore they wouldn't get a hundred and twenty-five customers in because of the UM Grizzlies having their summer concert. To pump him up in time for the bar opening, she'd promised to make him dinner at his place if she couldn't rally the customers into inviting more people down to the bar.
Jerry had been right. Only a hundred and eighteen customers walked into the bar before it closed for the night.
"Macaroni and cheese." She grinned, giving him a bad time. He wanted steak and potatoes, which she could do, too. But she'd keep that little tidbit about herself, to herself.
Jerry patted her ass, shaking his head before he left to go sign the checks. She walked over and took care of a customer at the register.
"Calling it an early night?" She smiled at Bo, a regular.
"I'm going fishing in the morning." Bo tipped back his baseball hat. "I'm hoping they're biting."
"I heard it's going to be one hundred degrees." She handed him his change. "Are you going out on the Clark Fork?"
"Yep."
"Nice." She closed the cash drawer. "Good luck. I hope you catch your limit."
"Thank you much." He dipped his chin and left the bar.
She scanned the counter. Everyone was busy drinking, talking, and one of the gentlemen was deep in thought, cradling his beer with both hands.
Looking out on the floor, she found Nelson sitting with his elbows on the table, listening to the bikers talk. She rubbed her lips together. He'd been friends with the motorcycle club before he'd gone to prison. She was glad that those friendships continued for him.
He had no family left, not that they were there for him years ago.
As if he sensed her watching his back, he stood and walked to the counter. She looked for Jerry, but he was still in the office.
Nelson approached her, leaning on the counter. "Can I get a pop?"
"Sure." She reached under the counter, grabbed a can of Pepsi, and poured it into a glass of ice.
She understood his reasons not to drink
with the others. He'd had his share of dealing with a drunk father and was glad to see he still refrained when around others.
He tried handing her a ten-dollar bill. She shook her head. "It's on the house."
Riverside Bar allowed designated drivers to have free non-alcohol drinks throughout the night. Though he came on his motorcycle and would probably leave by himself, it was good enough for her.
He stayed at the bar. She tilted her head, wondering why he wasn't going back to sit with his friends.
"Do you need something else?" she asked.
"Yeah." He lowered his voice. "You can answer a question for me."
"Okay."
His gaze intensified. "Do you tremble when Jerry kisses you?"
"That's none of your business," she whispered.
"Yeah, fox, it is." He looked to his right. "Your boyfriend is coming back. Maybe I should ask him."
"Stop," she said on a hiss. "That's not funny."
Nelson straightened and lifted his glass when Jerry approached her. "Thanks for the drink."
She swallowed hard, staring at him, begging him not to say more. He walked back to the table.
"You didn't charge him?" said Jerry.
"It's a pop, no alcohol. Designated driver." She held herself still, trying to hide the way Nelson had bothered her. "Checks all done?"
Jerry nodded. She slid past him and went to the office.
Alone in the room, she shut the door and sat down on the chair. What was Nelson trying to prove?
He clearly enjoyed taunting her, making her worry about him confronting Jerry. She had no reason to feel guilty for kissing her boyfriend. Nelson was the one who should've kept his hands and mouth to himself.
He should never have kissed her. He'd taken her by surprise.
What was she expected to do, slap him?
She put each check into an envelope and wrote the employee name on the front of each one. Then, she pulled out the bills for the bar and stuffed the correct check into each one. Opening the top drawer, she reached for the roll of stamps and came up empty.
Searching in the drawer, she couldn't find the white plastic container. Not wanting to go bother Jerry, she tried the right-hand side drawer. She found them at the top of the pile. Jerry wasn't known for his organizational skills.
Once the bills were set on the corner of the desk in the outgoing mail, she put the employees' checks in the folder and placed it front and center on the desk for Jerry.
Putting the stamps in the top drawer where they were supposed to be, she closed the side drawer and stood. She turned to get out of the chair, and her shin banged into the desk.
A muffled oomph escaped. She rubbed her leg, realizing she'd kicked the bottom drawer. It was halfway open.
Glancing at the contents as she reached over to close the drawer, she spotted two pistols at the bottom. She shivered, kicking the drawer shut, not wanting to touch anything close to the handguns. Lots of people carried a weapon. Jerry even carried one in his truck, locked in the glovebox.
She didn't like how the guns in the office were unlocked, and anyone could get to them.
Going out of the office, she shut the door and walked out into the bar. Jerry was deep in conversation with a male customer. She scooted around him and helped the customer waiting at the cash register.
When she finished, she refilled the mug for Big Gene at the counter. "Here you go."
"Thanks." Big Gene pointed at her. "Did I ever tell you about the year we got six feet of snow in April?"
She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Now, hang on there, Big Gene. Last time you told me that story, it was November. I think you're trying to pull my leg?"
Big Gene laughed over the rim of his mug. "Go on with you, girl."
She grinned, enjoying his humor. He was a funny old man who'd lost his wife a few years ago and spent most of his time holding up the counter.
Jerry stepped over to her and grabbed her arm. Backpedaling as he pushed her toward the hallway, she pried at his fingers.
"Let go." She rubbed her upper arm when he released her. "That hurt."
She glared up at him. He'd never manhandled her before, and she wouldn't allow that now.
"Seriously, don't do that again." She glanced down. There were red finger marks where he'd grabbed her.
"That man who keeps staring at you in the bar is an ex-con who killed his father and deals drugs." Jerry blocked her from getting out of the hallway and reached for her when she tried to walk away.
He went in for a hug, and she shrugged, escaping underneath his arm. She turned around now that she wasn't cornered. "So? It's not my business what he's done."
"So, I'm worried about you, babe." Jerry cupped her face. "He spent ten years in prison. I don't like the attention he's giving you."
Anger filled her. He made Nelson sound like an animal.
Jerry stroked her cheek. "I'm glad you're going home with me tonight. I don’t want anything to happen to you."
"Nothing is going to happen." She softened.
He was only concerned about her. Wasn't that what she wanted more of from him?
"Stop worrying." She pecked his lips. "Let's go back out there and work, maybe the night will go faster."
Jerry inhaled deeply. "Stay away from the bikers for me."
"Yes, sir," she said flippantly, then regretted it when he frowned.
They separated at the counter. She walked over to the darts area and talked with a few of the customers, her mind on someone else.
That's probably how she found herself wandering closer and closer to the bikers in the middle of the room, despite Jerry's warning.
Ten feet away from Nelson, she recognized the deep lines at the corner of his eyes. Eyes that were looking straight at her.
She'd seen that squinty look every time his dad had yelled or hit him. It was the only sign that he struggled to hold back his temper.
She glanced in Jerry's direction, found him busy with a customer, and looked back at Nelson.
"What?" she mouthed.
His gaze lowered. She looked down. Jerry's handprint was still on her arm.
She shook her head. It was nothing.
Nelson stood. Afraid he'd confront Jerry, she hurried to Nelson's side.
"He hurt you." His voice shook, rubbing his thumb along the marked skin.
"No." She shivered. "I'm pale. Every touch shows on my skin."
"Bullshit," he mumbled, his body remaining tense.
Curley stood from the table behind her. "We're riding out. You coming, Steel?"
Nelson's gaze never left her. "Yeah, I'll be out in a sec."
She looked up at him. "It's okay. Really. Go."
His upper cheek twitched. Then, he turned and walked out of the bar.
She watched him go, only breathing in relief when the front door shut behind him. If he got in a fight, someone would get hurt, or he'd end up back in prison.
Before she reached the other side of the room, Curley and the other bikers rushed back into the bar and surrounded her.
"Wh-what's going on?" She stepped back as they pressed in on her.
Their stern expressions scared her after seeing them talking and getting along. Her heart raced. She looked for Nelson, and he wasn't with them.
"Hey! What the hell's going on?" yelled Jerry, pushing his way to her. "Break it up."
Curley stepped in front of Jerry, blocking her. "It's best you stay out of this."
As Jerry and Curley went head to head, she turned and asked the nearest biker. "Where's Nelson?"
"He's outside, taking care of business." The biker rubbed his head. "Someone backed into his bike."
She raised to her toes. "Is he okay?"
"Yeah, whoever it was had done it while we were in the bar." Roddy was the name on his patch. "He wants us to stay with you. When he figures out what's going on, we'll let you get back to work."
"I need to see him." She looked around, trying to find a way out without anyone
stopping her.
A hand grabbed her wrist. She jumped, pulling away.
"Come with me." Jerry guided her away from the men and took her behind the counter.
She looked back at the Tarkio Motorcycle Club members. Someone wasn't telling her the truth. If a customer drove into Nelson's motorcycle, they needed to call the cops and make an accident report. Fender benders happened all the time in the parking lot when people drank and decided to drive.
"Stay back here until they leave." Jerry looked at the front door, but the one-way glass made it impossible to see outside. "I knew that guy was trouble."
She pressed her lips together. He was wrong about Nelson.
"Tonight couldn't end soon enough." Jerry looked at his watch. "There's only fifteen minutes until closing. I'm shutting down the drinks."
"I'll let the servers know," she said.
"Stay here. I'll tell them."
At two o'clock on the dot, the bikers left after ushering the other customers out of the bar, and Jerry locked the front door. Scarlett, wanting to rush outside to see if Nelson was still in the parking lot, closed the till and held out the cash bag to Jerry.
She followed him into the office and watched him put everything in the safe. Then, she followed him into the employees' breakroom and waited for him to hand out the checks.
Always the last one to lock up the bar after everyone left, Jerry muttered, "Let's get out of here."
Because of his bad mood and the way the night had ended, she would've preferred to go home alone instead of back to his house. She needed to decompress and understand what was going on with Nelson.
She should be happy that Jerry paid more attention to her tonight, but the way he'd acted toward Nelson being at the bar rubbed her wrong. Demanding that she stay away from him only because of rumors that were only partially true reeked of judgment when Jerry had no reason to form an opinion about a man he knew nothing about.
Not once had he asked how she felt. He was only concerned about bossing her around. She looked down at her arm. The marks from where he'd grabbed her were gone.
But she hadn't imagined how rough he'd become. There was an urgency in him with Nelson here that flashed all kinds of warnings in her.
In the parking lot behind the bar, she inhaled deeply. The near one-hundred-degree day made for a warm night.