fourteen
They ended up at some place called the Tavern. It was way out of the way in some town Angel had never heard of before, and it was packed. Maybe it was the only place in town to get a decent drink because, from the sheer amount of cars parked in the gravel lot and the people milling about, she guessed that every last person that lived in the area was present tonight.
The idea of being in a place that small surrounded by that many people was nausea-inducing, but one look at handsome Kade’s face and how his expression lightened considerably as he threw the car into park, and she kept her lips sealed.
She wasn’t about to rain on his parade when he was clearly excited to be there. When he turned a bright smile on her and said, “Come on,” she knew he was excited to have her there with him, too.
As she got out of the car and met him at the front end, slipping her smaller hand into his, she could feel the energy fizzling from him and got the distinct impression this place was somehow important to him. At the very least, he held a soft spot for it, making her take a closer look so she could try to see what he saw.
Inside was even worse than the outside. The moment they stepped through the solid wood door, Angel was assaulted with noise and smells and heat worse than a sauna—not that she knew what a sauna felt like personally, as she’d never had the pleasure or the desire to be in one. But aside from the discomforting sensations, she thought she saw a bit of what attracted him to the place. From the scarred wood floors to the old-timey curving bar top to the extended ceiling fans that hung from exposed wooden rafters and all of the western memorabilia hanging on the walls, it had a saloon-type feel and an old-world charm that was difficult to come by in a world infested by nightclubs.
Kade held her hand tight as he shoved his way through the throngs of people packed in tighter than sardines. Angel clung to him, one hand in his and the other on his thick forearm, fearing she’d lose him completely if they got separated.
Locating a high-top table that a couple was stepping away from, Kade took long, deep strides to get them there and, without a moment’s hesitation, he turned and grabbed her by the waist, then hoisted her up onto one of the two stools before anyone else could claim it.
“You stay here while I get us drinks,” he said close to her ear. “What do you want?”
Angel might work in a bar, but she’d never partaken much in the actual act of drinking. “Uhh…sex on the beach?”
He drew back with a smirk. “Babe, we’re a long way away from any beach.”
“The drink,” she clarified with a laugh, knowing he was just teasing.
“Yeah, I know. But old Lou isn’t much for the frilly stuff. He keeps it simple around here. Beers, liquor, the old-fashioned stuff.”
Angel hadn’t heard of any place in modern history that would willingly cut out such a huge market for business by not upgrading to the latest alcoholic beverage mixes. Not even the basics—a simple margarita? A mojito? Unheard of. She was curious who this guy was. Probably some ancient codger who’s as rigid as a two-by-four, she thought.
“Just a beer I guess. Something domestic,” she told Kade, figuring she couldn’t go wrong with something that simple.
“Honey, domestic is all he does.” Kade winked at her, dropped a quick kiss on her lips, then was off, swallowed by the crowd in less than two seconds flat.
Angel immediately folded in on herself, trying to be as small and invisible as possible. In a place like this, the likelihood of anyone taking notice of her or singling her out was slim, yet she felt like a sore thumb anyway. She preferred to keep to herself.
Twangy country music played over the speakers, mingling with all the conversations and laughter and occasional whoops and hollers, pressing down tight on her ears. It reminded her a lot of her job at the club, but this seemed amped up, even for as small a venue as it was—they had to be far beyond the fire safety code… By the time they left, it would feel like she had her ears packed with cotton.
“So he finally decided to make an honest woman of ya.”
The gravelly male voice came from behind her, and Angel jerked her head around, catching a familiar, smiling face. “Cricket, what are you doing here?”
The handsome devil slid into the chair that was technically reserved for Kade, wherever he was. “I’m meeting someone.” Anticipation and mischief danced in his eyes.
Angel’s smile grew fast and wide. “This someone doesn’t happen to be the mystery woman I heard you boys gossiping about, is it?”
“We do not gossip,” he said, feigning offense. “Much. Anyway, yes, that’s the one, and she should be here any minute.” His head turned as if on a swivel, searching the crowd.
“How exciting,” Angel told him, genuinely happy for him. She hoped it worked out. True love stories were always a guilty pleasure for her growing up, and that had only intensified in her adult years. The problem was always with finding the prince charming who wasn’t a total loser, liar, and waste of time, space, and energy.
Kade was none of those things—yet. She hoped he’d turn out to be all she thought and hoped he was. He sure was painting a mighty fine picture for her, and she was nearly ready to go all in. It was hard holding back when all she wanted to do was leap in with both feet and her hands tied behind her back, completely at his mercy to catch her and lift her to safety in those big, beefy, totally lickable arms.
Holy crap, it was hot in there. Maybe Old Lou didn’t believe in air conditioning either. Too new-age for his taste?
“So where’s your man?” Cricket asked, bringing her attention back to him.
She flipped her hand in the air. “Around. He said he was going to fetch us a couple of drinks. I think the crowd ate him.”
He chuckled. “It’s busy tonight,” he stated the obvious. “The owner is a penny pincher. He likes to keep his staff small, but…busty.” He tipped his head to a woman passing by, weaving her way through the throng with a couple of beers clasped between three fingers and pressed up against a mountain of boobs that were bigger than her head.
Angel’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m surprised she doesn’t fall right over,” she whisper-shouted over the table once the woman was out of earshot.
“Who says she hasn’t?” he said with a wink.
“Oh, you’re terrible!” But she’d bet he was right. Those thick, red lips screamed free BJs.
“Who’s terrible? And why are you sitting in my seat?” Kade’s booming voice cut through the din, startling Angel, while Cricket merely looked up at him in amusement.
“Just keeping this lovely lady company. Seems her date ditched her.”
Kade glared, though there was no heat behind it. “Move it or lose it, jackass.”
Chuckling, Cricket moved out of the way so Kade could take his place. “Any chance one of those is for me?” He pointed to the four beers Kade had returned with.
“Not a chance in hell, my brother. That line is crazy ridiculous. You’ll just have to wait like everyone else.”
“That’s cold, man.” Cricket slapped Kade on the back and then shot Angel a warm smile. “I’d better get myself a place in that line. Hate to keep a lady waiting.”
“Good idea,” Angel agreed. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, hon.” He winked, and Angel had a feeling it wasn’t just a friendly gesture but designed to raise Kade’s hackles. The brothers were always trying to piss each other off.
Kade glared at the man as he walked off, and this time there was a bit of heat behind it. “When did you two get close enough for pet names?”
Angel rolled her eyes and accepted one of the beers. “He was just being nice. You should try it sometime.”
Kade drew back, offended. “I’m nice.”
“Sometimes,” she conceded. “But there’s always room for improvement.” She winked at him to let him know she was just yanking his chain. Kade was a bit rough around the edges, but he had plenty of soft spots to keep her satisfied.
“So why’s he lurking around tonight?”
Angel followed his gaze toward the bar. It was like trying to find Waldo, but after a moment, she spotted Cricket rocking back and forth on his heels, his smile wide and his eyes bright as he chatted enthusiastically with a drop-dead gorgeous, exotic woman that instantly made her feel like chopped liver.
“Uh, I think she’s why,” she said, tipping her head toward the couple.
Kade assessed them for a moment before releasing a long, slow whistle. “Wow,” was all he said, and Angel narrowed her eyes at him.
“‘Wow,’” she mocked. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that kind of reaction out of you before.” Made her feel downright fantastic.
Kade ripped his gaze away from the beauty queen and set them on Angel. “Now that’s a downright lie, and you know it. You’re the sexiest woman in here.”
“Says the man who just eye fucked his friend’s date…in front of his own date.”
“I did not eye fuck her,” he said with a heavy note of disapproval in his voice. “A man can appreciate the opposite sex without meaning anything by it.”
“If I did what you just did to another man, you would shit your pants,” she accused, and the way his eyes darted away told her she was right.
“Look, Mouse. If I wanted her, I’d have her—”
“What”
“Shit, not what I meant,” he was quick to correct. “I just mean, I don’t want her. I want you. That’s why I’m here with you and not her.”
Angel wanted to lay into him about how arrogant he sounded right now, but she understood what he was trying to say, so she cut him a little slack. But only a little. “Fine. You’re with me. So as long as you keep your eyes right here at this table, I won’t cut your balls off later.” She gave him a saccharine smile that was intended to convey the warning.
“Hearing you loud and clear, Mouse. Now, what do you say we drink these beers and go have us a dance.”
Downing his first bottle in a few long gulps, Kade pushed the second bottle toward her and indicated that she’d better hurry and catch up as he picked up his own.
As Angel drank her beers as fast as she could, all she could think was, Kade? Dance? This I gotta see!
***
He was a handsome devil. Victorjia couldn’t stop sneaking peeks at his tattoos as he talked, hoping that she wasn’t being too obvious. She didn’t want to offend the man after only just meeting him.
She’d bet he was covered in ink underneath that Army green Henley. In fact, she was almost certain of it. He’d done a good job covering as much skin as possible, but aside from his hands, she spotted a bit of color popping out from his shirt collar too.
Sexy. That was the main word she attributed to him this evening. Along with handsome, quiet, friendly, well-mannered, gentlemanly, and the total opposite of anyone she’d ever dated before. Not only was he a gringo, but he had that whole dangerous vibe going on the surface. Beneath it though, she didn’t get that impression from him at all. “Cricket,” as he’d introduced himself initially, before quickly correcting to Heath, struck her more as the teddy bear type. He was just…nice.
Victorjia had been raised in a very strict Christian home. She’d always been told who she could be friends with and who to stay away from. She knew instinctively from her very limited interactions with her father that it had everything to do with him. She’d never known anything significant about his background, but she understood inherently from the way her grandmother whispered about him behind closed doors and the disapproving tone of her voice when she’d hand her the phone to speak to him that he wasn’t one of the good guys—despite that being the only impression he’d ever left her with.
Being in his home for a single night and seeing how tightly he kept his ship running lent credence to her abuela’s fears, and Victorjia wasn’t dumb. No one would keep that kind of security if they weren’t afraid of someone from the outside coming in and taking what wasn’t theirs. Unless it was. Both were distinct possibilities.
She would be lying if she said that it didn’t unsettle her a bit to know that her father was into some shady dealings. Especially now that she was in the center of his world. If he was ever made a target, she could get caught in the crossfire.
But so far, this little town he’d settled on the outskirts of seemed quiet. It didn’t strike her as a hub of criminal activity. And despite Heath being an obvious part of a biker gang, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d run around committing crimes. In fact, she felt oddly safe with him, as if something inside of her knew that he would throw himself between her and danger if it came down to it.
“I got this one for my sister,” Heath said, snapping her out of her thoughts. He was pointing to a white rose with a light pink blush around the edges riding his left hand.
That’s when she realized she’d been staring. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to gawk.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s what people do. But I wouldn’t have them if I was worried about what people would think, ya know.”
Nodding, Victorjia reached out and touched the rose, curiosity getting the better of her. “Is it true that tattoos have a story behind them?”
“Depends who you’re talking to. For me, yeah. Each one carries a special meaning.”
“So this one is for your sister. What does it mean?”
His expression wilted. “It’s a reminder. She was born with a rare genetic disorder. Didn’t live past the age of two.”
“Oh,” she gasped quietly, feeling like she’d overstepped in a major way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it was a long time ago. Our family was glad to have the time with her that we did.”
Victorjia admired the way he carried himself. She could tell it pained him to talk about, even after so much time had passed, but he was choosing to see the good over the bad. She’d always tried to live that way too. It was nice to have something in common.
“How many others do you have?”
He gave her a what do you think? look. “Lots, beautiful.”
Victorjia wasn’t the typical blusher, but blush she did. Of course, she was used to hearing the word directed at her, and she wasn’t blind to the fact that she was pretty, but she’d never heard the word spoken by someone who she was genuinely interested in and who was genuinely interested in her beyond the physical.
“Any I can see?” she asked with a flirtatious smile. She already knew the answer before he said it.
“Not any I should show you here.”
“Hmm, I had a feeling you would say that.”
“How about you?” he asked, openly scanning all the visible parts of her. “Got any ink to share?”
She shifted, her body heating. She could swear she felt his eyes on her like a physical touch. “No, I don’t have any.” It was against her religion. Or her abuela’s, depending on how you looked at it. Victorjia had always appreciated the beauty of tattoos, the art of it, but the idea of going up against her family’s core beliefs was enough to put her off the idea. Keeping the peace was much more important than marking her body and causing a rift.
A look came over Heath that she couldn’t put a name to, and he locked eyes with her while taking a drink from his stein glass.
“What’s that look for?” she finally asked, curious and uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
“Just thinking.”
“About…?”
“Don’t meet many virgins around here.”
Victorjia nearly choked on her own saliva. “Excuse me?” How did he know? Was it that obvious?
“It’s just what we call people without tattoos. Around here, if you’re below fifty, you most likely have at least one.”
Relieved that he hadn’t seen some invisible label in the middle of her forehead, Victorjia said, “Oh, well, it just never occurred to me. It wasn’t something that was allowed in my family.”
“Religious?” he asked with a pinched brow, which worried her somewhat.
“Yeah. My grandma raised me to believe that you’re not supposed to mark your body.”
Heath sat back, regarding her seriously. “What you must think of me…” he mused.
“Oh no, no,” she rushed out. “I may not do it, but I don’t judge those who do. I actually like your tattoos. They suit you.” That was the truth. What she didn’t say was how much hotter she found him with them. She’d never considered herself a tattoo girl, for obvious reasons, but sitting across from him, she found Heath absolutely edible. Licking each and every tattoo on his body would be a pleasure, and one she hoped she’d get to explore more fully in the near future.
“I’m glad you think so. A lot of time and thought went into them. I consider my body kind of like a canvas and the tattoos are the medium in which I paint it.”
Victorjia tilted her head and smiled. “That was very poetic.”
He sat back, taking his glass with him. “Bah, I stole that from some meme I saw on the internet once.”
Throwing her head back, Victorjia laughed. “And honest, too. I like it.”
“I like you,” he said, his eyes fixed on her.
A fresh wave of heat and desire raced through her, and she bit her lip, wanting to look away but forcing herself to maintain eye contact. “I like you, too, Heath.”
“My friend is on the dance floor, and from the looks of it, he’s broken both feet and is having an epileptic fit. What do you say we get out there and show him what dancing really looks like.”
Victorjia giggled a very schoolgirl giggle that was so unlike her. “I’ve never actually danced to country music. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
His eyes widened in shock. “You’ve never two-stepped?” She shook her head no. “Line danced?” Again, no. “Well, beautiful,” he said resolutely as he stepped down onto the floor and held out his hand, “you’re gonna learn tonight.”
Victorija’s heart pounded against her ribs as he led her by the hand out onto the dance floor. Clearing a sliver of space wide enough for the two of them, Heath gave a forceful tug and swung her into his arms, sending her crashing against his chest with a squeal.
“Hold on tight, darlin’,” he said with a put-upon Southern accent, “and follow my lead.”
Since she had no idea what she was doing, Victorjia planned to do exactly that. Then, with a quick step to the left and a little dip up top, they were in motion…and Victorjia had never felt so free.