Nothing better than a good ride, I thought as I kicked my Harley into the top gear and gunned it past one of those dinky little electric cars that had been sitting in the passing lane going about 55 miles per hour for the last five minutes.

As I passed, I threw the driver the bird. The little old grey haired lady behind the wheel looked at me like I was the devil on wheels. Chuckling, I shook my hair in the wind as I sped towards the exit for downtown Austin.

I’d been working at Preston’s farm for the last month. He’d picked it up off the old geezer Frank who used to own it, co-partnering with Chuck and Jamie, the owners of Evening Glory whole foods in Austin where I used to work when I came down from California.

I needed to let off some steam after a long hard day working on the farm, digging soil and spreading fertilizer, I needed something else. If it was long and hard too that was fine with me. In fact, that was ideal. I just needed something—anything to keep my mind off him…

After what had happened, I’d just needed to get away. A change of scenery, lifestyle, friends—everything.

They say true love heals all wounds, but sometimes love’s wounds can be more than one person can bear.

I’d found love in California with him—Adam, an omega that had turned my life upside down. Before Adam, I was your average surfer bro, spending my days on the waves and my nights on the beach, chilling out by a campfire. After I met him, everything changed.

Stop thinking about him! I screamed at myself as I gunned the engine towards the exit. I passed a tractor trailer hauling a load of loam, nodding casually to the portly fellow behind the wheel.

Gnawing on the tooth pick between my teeth, I tried to get my head right. I’d done good work all day and I deserved a little down time. A new bar was opening downtown, The Manhole, and I was ready to live it up. I’d invited the rest of the boys, but Preston was all hitched up now and the others said they were too tired.

Too tired…

If there was one thing that my experience with Adam had taught me, it was that you can’t live for anyone other than yourself. Keep your heart closed, get yours and don’t let anyone fuck you over. Ever since leaving California, that’s how I’d been living, and I wasn’t about to stop anytime soon.

I took the exit, slowed the bike and took the turn leading off the highway into town. Austin’s nightlights pulsed before me. Compared to the empty darkness of the farm at night, the place was alive with energy. Just what I needed.

Traffic was pretty shit. It was Friday night after all. But being on a bike meant I didn’t have to put up with that nonsense. A quick check showed no coppers in the area, so I easily threaded through the traffic and took a right at the light. The Manhole wasn’t far, and I was there in no time.

“Shit goddamn,” I muttered as I found a spot two blocks up from the bar. “Place is hoppin’.”

I switched off my bike, pocketed my keys, grabbed my trusty-dusty cowboy hat from my saddle and headed down the sidewalk.

There was a thick crowd out front, but it looked like it was part of the party inside spilling out onto the streets. I recognized a few faces from R7, the other popular bar on the other side of town, but a lot of newcomers as well.

Fresh meat, I thought as I eyed a trio of omegas who were definitely out looking for some vitamin D. One of them was cute, with a nice ass stuffed into some Levis, but the other two looked like they’d been passed around town two or three times—or even several towns. One of them caught my eye as I approached. I threw him a wink but swerved inside before he could say anything.

Inside, the bar was pounding. Someone had decided to throw on “If I Could Turn Back Time,” by Cher. I rolled my eyes as I took in the scene.

It wasn’t that much different than R7. But I mean, without going crazy, how creative can a bar really be? There were tables, a high top counter with a smug beta bartending, two pool tables, darts and a mechanical bull in the corner, where an omega was showing off his riding skills. He threw his head back and laughed as he held on to the bucking mechanical beast. A crowd of alphas had gathered to watch. One in particular, fidgeted and readjusted his dick, which was obviously getting hard.

“There’s some love for ya,” I muttered as I made my way to the bar. The bartender had on a white t-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve.

“Whiskey sour,” I told him with a nod. He took a second to check me out before nodding back.

“Sure thing, boss.”

It wasn’t rare for me to get checked out. Standing six-foot-two, with long blonde hair and striking good looks, I got it pretty much everywhere I went. But this guy wasn’t for me. There was something snotty about him, and I was into omegas anyway.

He handed me my drink and I could see by his expression he was waiting for me to toss him a pickup line. Instead, I tossed him a ten and turned my back on him.

“Thanks,” I said casually as I made my way across the room. As I reached the pool tables, I felt a hand against my lower back and a voice whisper in my ear.

“Hey there, cowboy.”

I turned around to face a smoking hot omega. He was a few inches shorter than me, a crew cut, two days of scruff and a small but muscular body bulging out of a tight pair of khakis and polo shirt. He winked at me and sipped his beer.

Yup, I thought as I smiled. Tonight’s gonna be a good night.