Chapter 7
Thorn
The guy had a loud laugh, and there was something that the woman was saying to him which made him throw his head back and laugh even harder. I wasn’t sure why I was feeling this jealous. I hadn’t even noticed her till I’d caught her looking at me, and after that, my attention had turned to my own thoughts. What was I jealous of? I didn’t even know her. She wasn’t my type, and I wasn’t hers.
But the more the two of them talked, the harder I stared at them.
I still couldn’t decide if she was enjoying his advances. This guy, with his beanie, unlike me, seemed more her type than I would be in a million years. He was fashionable and hip, drinking what looked like craft beer in a bottle and probably making intelligent political jokes. He seemed like the sort of guy whose company someone like her would enjoy. However, I couldn’t get this nagging feeling out of my gut that she wasn’t thrilled by his advances.
Either way, it was none of my business. Whether she was happy with his presence or not, she was still talking to him. Even if she didn’t want to, she was holding her own which was something I liked. She was definitely not the kind of woman who needed a man to come to her immediate rescue, and I wasn’t going to be that guy.
I finished my second drink and asked for another, and from the corner of my eye; I could see that they were still talking. It wasn’t my place to interrupt or feel jealous. My mind wandered to other things soon enough anyway.
Maybe we could spruce up Dirty Harry’s. Who was I kidding? It was either the alcohol or the fact that I was stupidly drinking in a bar like this, that gave me ideas about making something of Dirty Harry’s. There was no way that any of the other guys would agree to turn the bar into anything other than what it already was-a dive biker’s bar, where people like me hung out. Where someone like the woman sitting there, would never walk into.
There she was again! Occupying my thoughts when I least wanted her to. I clenched my jaw, unhappy with the fact that she was luring my attention towards her again. I looked over in her direction, and now I could see the guy leaning towards her, saying something close to her face. She was leaning away from him, like his breath was bad, and I nearly laughed.
I looked away again. It was none of my business.
No, sprucing up Dirty Harry’s and trying to float it as our main income earner was not going to work. The bar wouldn’t generate enough revenue to keep all the guys happy. Besides, my brothers needed the kind of work that would keep them on their toes and their blood pumping at all times. If I didn’t find work like that for them, who knows what else they would get up to, to keep themselves busy. No, I needed an idea that would keep them occupied. A legitimate business plan along the lines of the kind of work that the club was already accustomed to handling.
I sensed a movement in the direction of the woman, and I looked over at her again. She was sliding off the stool, and I knew immediately then, that she wanted to get away from the guy. She wasn’t being rude. She was smiling and blushing, and I could sense that she was politely trying to make excuses. It was obvious to me now that she didn’t want him sticking around.
I clenched my jaw as I watched them. She smiled and said something to him, which made him step closer to her. She was off her stool now, but he was blocking her path. He had even bought her a drink, which the bartender was now placing on the counter in front of them.
The woman tried to swerve out of his way and my brows crossed. Up until now, I was happy to see her being able to handle herself, but now the guy was taking it to another level. Even though I didn’t want to see her go, I hoped for her sake that this idiot didn’t cause a scene. If that meant that she would leave the bar and I would never see her again, I was okay with that. I just hoped that this guy didn’t end up upsetting her.
But he did.
Instead of stepping out of her way and letting her go, which is what any man should have done in this situation; he made a grab for her wrist. He did this harshly, violently enough for the woman to gasp, which I heard. I gripped the glass of whiskey tighter in my hand, trying to control my building rage. The woman yanked her wrist away from him, and now I could see her brows crossed. She was beginning to lose her cool. She was beginning to panic. She had been calm and polite for too long, and she had every right to be mad at him now.
The guy still didn’t move out of her way, and I heard the traces of her raised voice.
I’d had enough. I’d seen all that I needed to see.
I slammed my glass down hard on the bar counter and stood up from my stool. This wasn’t about rescuing a woman I wanted in my bed, this was about teaching an asshole a lesson on how a woman should be treated. Unless he played his cards right, he had a big lesson coming his fucking way.