I swirl the ice in my drink around the glass, wishing I ordered two double gin and tonics. The one I ordered didn’t cut it. I’ve already knocked it back like a shot and need more to take the edge off. Drinking too much before I meet up with my best friend Sonya’s cousin, Dean in this seedy dive bar probably isn’t the best idea. Not that I can understand why I need to meet him at all. It’s not like the text message Sonya sent me to pass along to him is top secret or anything.

But for Dean, it probably is.

Sonya and her entire extended family are mistrustful at best. Sonya’s been my best friend since before high school, yet she’s never once invited me to her house in all that time. They don’t like the idea of traditional government, they shy away from society, and they don’t, under any circumstances, talk to each other on the phone. Something about wire-tapping. Which is why I’m playing the real-life telephone game with the two of them. I’ve known Dean for years too, and he buys into the same ideology.

At least we’re not meeting up for long. I’ll catch up on how he’s been for a few minutes, give him her message, and leave. Ever since Sonya left the country for a conservation scientist work assignment somewhere in Eastern Europe, I’ve been passing messages from her to Dean from time to time. But the messages have been coming more frequently since her employer moved her out to study somewhere in the Bulgarian desert, a place I can’t even pronounce.

Like all of Sonya’s other notes, this latest message isn’t newsworthy. She wants me to let Dean know that she’s fine, that she’s working outside of cell phone range and will be unreachable for up to two months. That update is simple enough, yet Sonya insisted on me meeting Dean in person at this saloon to tell him.

I check the time again. It’s early. One of their relatives owns the place, so Dean is usually around when I get here. Shit. I was hoping to pop in and leave, as a few of my coworkers are at our after-work lounge two blocks from the library. That’d give me an excuse to be up and close to where I met that big, sexy biker this morning.

Axe.

He hasn’t phoned, but I hope he does. For all I know, he might think I put a fake number into his phone. It’ll be his loss if he doesn’t at least try to contact me.

I need to get laid soon.

Huffing out a breath, I look around and take in the sketchy characters near the bar. One of them is wearing too much denim. The man next to him, not enough hair. Too drunk. Not tall enough. I snap my head forward to face the bartender when the short one notices me looking and gives me a seedy wink. Nope. This is not the place for a casual hookup. Besides, I’m still holding out some hope for biker guy.

Axe.

What a name.

I clutch my glass and lick my bottom lip as I remember the smoking hot man who had my panties soaked from only a five-minute coffee shop conversation. Our banter was a random bright spot in an otherwise dull day. Most men can’t handle my larger than life personality or my confidence, not to mention the fact that I’m plus-sized. He, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy what most would call my smart mouth. I remind myself that for now, I’m not looking for killer verbal skills, unless his tongue does killer things down south.

Heat rises up my neck, and I close my eyes and down the rest of my now watery drink. I take a quick glance down my body to be sure I’m still as put together as when I left work. Good thing I swapped my black suit jacket for this pale pink top with short capped sleeves. It’s less inhibiting and a lot more casual this time of night.

“Hello, lovely,” says a slurred voice coming from behind me. “I’m Troy. How about I buy you a drink?”

I turn slowly until I’m face to face with the inebriated patron from the other end of the bar. The man can barely stand straight, let alone have a conversation. I rattle the ice in my glass and narrow my eyes at him. “I appreciate the offer, but I like buying my own drinks. Thanks, though.”

He grazes his less than subtle eyes down my body, taking twice as long as most because he’s probably seeing double at his level of intoxication. I glance down into my glass with a frown, bracing for an inappropriate remark.

“Hey, excuse me,” says a more familiar gruff-sounding voice. “I’m going to cut this off because the lady isn’t here for you, okay? Just mosey on over to that table over there.”

I glance up in time to see drunk dude unceremoniously lifted out of his chair, and my biker from the coffee shop slides in beside me as if he owns the spot.

“What a welcome coincidence, slugger,” I say, unable to contain my smile.

“Hey.” He has that cocky smile on his face. I won’t forget it anytime soon. “You didn’t think you’d see me again, did you?” he asks in a voice that makes my core clench as its baritone vibrations made its way to the base of my spine.

“Actually, I thought I would’ve heard from you hours ago,” I admit, giving him a sideway glance. “Axe, right?”

“Yes.” My mystery man slaps a pink sticky note on the counter in front of me. A square of paper from my sticky pad, and with a note in my handwriting. “You dropped this outside Desert Java.”

“Oh, thanks. I was wondering what I did with that address. Good thing I’ve been here a few times before. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made it.”

He holds out his arm for a handshake, revealing a forearm covered in colorful ink. I shake his hand and hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps running up my bare arms. My eyes trail up his muscular chest, broad shoulders, and grizzled chin, skimming the rest of his face when I lock with his green eyes. God, they’re sparkling just as brightly indoors as they did under the blinding sunlight this morning.

“Nice to meet you again, Angel.”

“Same here.”

That split second seems like an eternity while we hold on for way too long in that handshake. I can’t quite figure out why I don’t pull away. Every molecule in my body tells me to hang on, but there’s a tiny part of my mind wrestling hard for control, urging me not to invest any time in this man with biker gang bad boy written all over his face. Am I stereotyping him? Yes, because the last thing I need in my life is trouble, even if Axe does have a whole lot of sex appeal smashed onto a muscular, godlike body and a killer smile.

I need to put my guard up.

Way up.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, and releases my hand.

I press my lips together and arch a brow, weighing how bad it’ll be if I’m too relaxed around this man. Then I think better of it. “I should probably lay off the alcohol. I’ve got a bit of a drive home.”

Axe idly drags his callused fingertip over the top of my hand that’s still resting on the counter. “I’d be happy to get you home safely tonight.”

“That’s really sweet of you, but I’m not looking for a designated rider—I mean driver,” I add quickly, jerking my hand out from under his electric touch. Maybe I am a little tipsy. Why else would I say something so spicy?

“I’d ride you home anytime,” he says with a grin.

“That was a slip of the tongue.”

“I got that. It’s still kinda cute… and sexy as hell.”

“Do you have to be so smug and cocky right now?” I ask. “Look, I’m sorry if I come off as rude, but I’m waiting for a friend, all right? That means I have to be here.” My eyes roam around to the bar entrance, wishing Dean would make his appearance so I can get the hell out of here and snap out of whatever spell Axe has me under.

“I like your honesty. All that spunk needs a better outlet. Something with less talking and more grinding.”

“Are you really going there?” I bark. I’m trying my best not to show how attracted I am to this man, but every inappropriate remark he makes causes the hairs at the base of my neck to stand on end. I press my thighs together to stop the throbbing in my core. Mr. Pussy Whisperer over there has a voice that’s hardwired to my body. Having him sit next to me is downright intoxicating.

“I get the impression that you like the idea a lot more than you care to admit. I can see it in your eyes.”

“You’re full of yourself, even if you’re right,” I say then immediately bite down on my lip for fueling him on. I desperately wish I was stronger than this. Maybe the trick is to keep my mouth shut. Dean will be here soon. Yes, silence is the best course of action. He can’t tempt silence.

Axe licks his lips. “What exactly are you afraid of?”

That question makes me swallow hard. “I’m not afraid of anything,” I squeak.

“Angel.” The sound of my name on Dean’s commanding voice coming from behind me makes me straighten up in my bar chair and whip my head around.

“Dean. Hi. I was wondering when you’d get here,” I say to him, but his eyes are locked onto Axe’s as they size each other up. The intense expressions on their faces are way too scary to be about me. These men have a history.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Dean asks, folding his arms as he gestures over at Axe.

“I’ve got a name, Roman,” Axe informs him.

“Right. Since we’re going with last names, I’ll stick to Voltaire. Angel, is Voltaire harassing you?”

For a second, I’m sure these walking, talking poster boys for testosterone will start fighting any minute now.

“Simmer down, boys. Dean, I have a message for you.” I inch off my bar chair and take a few steps away from the bar. “Unless the two of you want to trash this place, in which case, please wait until I’m safely in my car before you kick off the carousing.”

Axe is the first to break from their death stares. “I was just leaving.” He eases out of his seat, straightening up. “See you around, Angel.”

“I really don’t think you will,” I mutter. Most of that answer comes from that little voice in my head. It’s warning me not to give Axe an inch. And it knows best. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I let him, he’ll get under my skin until I’m dangerously addicted to him. And that’s a bad idea. We have nothing in common.

Well, one thing.

He wants to get in my pants, and I’d like someone to take them off every so often.

Axe shrugs one shoulder and turns. I’m a little regretful to see him leave the saloon with that swagger in his step I still can’t ignore.

“What did Sonya want?” Dean’s question brings me back to my senses.

“The message. Right.” I put Axe out of my mind and turn to face Dean, giving him Sonya’s update.

Dean nods. “And you’re sure she said up to two months?”

“Yes, why?”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“So that’s it?” I ask.

“It is,” Dean reassures me. “Sonya was just checking in. She just doesn’t want anyone here to worry. Trust me, she knows we’d be on a flight to search all of Europe if we don’t hear from her. Are you ready to leave?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

He unfolds his arms, runs a hand through his thick, chestnut brown hair, and glances at me again. “Okay, I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Thanks.”

“How do you know Axe Voltaire?” he asks as we head for the front entrance.

“I don’t, really. I just met him this morning.”

“Be careful with that guy,” he warns me. I’m sure it’s more than the typical brotherly advice Dean used to give Sonya and me during our teens. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Sure. I’m fine.”

We walk to my car under the dim night sky, and Dean waits for me to get inside.

“Thanks again for Sonya’s update,” he says. “Keep me posted if she reaches out again. She knows how much I avoid using the phone.”

I nod. “Will do. See you around.”

Putting my key in the ignition, I start my car and let my eyes follow Dean as he returns inside. Something was so off about him today. It probably had everything to do with Mr. Irresistible Biker.

With a quick glance in my rearview mirror, I put the vehicle in reverse and start to roll out of the parking spot, then my breath catches.

I see him.

Axe.

He’s still here, and he’s headed right for my driver side door.