After teasing me into a rock-hard erection, Clove decides to order a shot of vodka and sit at the bar. Half of the booths are full of bearded men. If they’re members of the local club, Clove makes no notice of them, and they don’t dare give her a single look.

I knew the ugly history of the crew when they arrived in Rawlins. They were scary foxes, but Clove had me from the moment I met the exotic beauty. I knew no woman even half as beautiful would ever enter my life, so I had to have her.

My mind is on how persistence paid off in my case when I notice the brothers from City by Night enter the bar. They make a beeline for Clove downing another shot of vodka. She smiles at me and rubs my head in the same way she’d pet a dog.

“You and this hair are the best things in this dive,” she says before frowning at Ford and Pax. “Are you here to pay for our drinks?” she asks and orders another shot.

I consider suggesting she slow down, but I don’t want to make her look weak in front of these club guys.

“How did you stay busy today?” Ford asks after the bartender hands him a beer.

“We stayed in bed,” Clove says. “Nothing else to do in this shithole.”

“Guess it’s good you got gone then,” Pax tells her. “Rawlins must be a fucking paradise for you.”

“It is.”

“You even found a pinup model to play with,” Ford says, grinning at his insult.

“You know what Glitch has that you twats don’t?” Clove asks and downs a shot of vodka. I watch the way her lips caress the glass and wish I could lick them clean.

“Farah Fawcett hair?” Pax asks, and my brain returns to the bar.

“No, dummy, he has sweet precious youth,” she announces before laughing. “You old fuckers with your wives and kids are past your expiration dates.”

Ford frowns at me. “You shouldn’t let her drink.”

“I shouldn’t do a lot of things,” I say and plant a sloppy kiss on her smiling lips.

My mouth claims Clove in a very public manner. These men might have no interest in tapping her plump ass, but that’s not the point. She is mine. Maybe one day she won’t be. For tonight, she is my woman, and anyone who looks at her wrong will feel my sweet precious youthful wrath.

“I bet you can’t even do a hundred pushups,” Clove says once her lips are free. “Time hasn’t been kind to you grandpas.”

Ford suddenly laughs and punches Pax. “Grandpa. She called us fucking grandpa.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I’m many things,” Ford says.

Pax helpfully interrupts to say, “Yeah, like an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Ford mutters, “like an asshole, but I am no one’s grandpa.”

“As if you could really know where every single one of your swimmers ended up,” Clove challenges and pokes him in the chest. “I bet you got a girl preggo, and your little bastard princess grew up and got preggo by another dumb biker. That would make you a grandpa. And that’s why you can’t do a hundred pushups. Deep inside your balls, you know you’ve got grandkids running around somewhere.”

“How the fuck old do you think I am?” Ford grumbles.

“Fifty,” Clove says, bursting into laughter so violent she nearly falls on her ass.

Laughing too, I keep her upright and order another shot. “A hundred dollars for a hundred pushups,” I say to the men. “That’s a dollar a pushup in case one of you isn’t so bright and can’t do math.”

“I say you do them shirtless,” a woman’s voice calls out.

Entering the bar, two attractive young women join us, one for each man. I assume they’re the enforcers’ wives. The one who spoke wraps her arms around Ford and smiles up at him. “Give everyone a show.”

“Is that a hundred for each of us or are we sharing?” Ford asks.

Pax kisses his woman and asks, “And if Ford can’t finish, does that mean I lose too?”

“A hundred each,” Clove says and reaches out to shake the women’s hands. “Bebe, Shay, you haven’t met Glitch, now have you?”

I nod at the women, figuring the blonde attached to Ford is Shay and the brunette hugging Pax is Bebe. They nod back at me, and quickly the conversation returns to pushups.

“What if I can’t do them?” I ask Clove.

“I’ve seen you at the gym. You can do a hundred in your sleep.”

“What about drunk?”

“You’re not drunk,” she says, giggling. “I’m drunk. You’re going to have to carry me soon.”

“I’ll get one of those baby carriers and strap you to the front of me, so you can see everything that’s going on.”

Clove laughs against me, her knees buckling more than once until I lift her enough to sit on a bar stool. By the time I turn back, I find Ford in a wife beater and a shirtless Pax.

“Don’t be shy,” Bebe tells me before sharing a laugh with Shay. “We’re hooked on our men, so our judgments shouldn’t matter.”

Their teasing means nothing after taking so much ribbing from Clove over the last few months. I slide out of my jacket and tug off my gray thermal shirt. Teetering on the stool, Clove enthusiastically claps and reaches out to caress my chest.

Ford grunts and removes his wife beater. “Are we doing this shit or are you two planning to fondle each other all night?”

I lower myself to the ground and get ready. Pax is already down. Soon, Ford joins us, and the counting begins. By twenty, the entire bar joins in. By fifty, my arms burn a bit. By seventy-five, Clove sits on the floor after toppling from her stool. Finally, we reach a hundred. I’m relieved my reflection in the mirror shows I’m less flushed than the other two.

Standing, I pull Clove to her feet. She yanks a wad of cash from between her cans and throws the twenties at the men.

“You earned this money, Grandpa,” she taunts Ford.

Shay smiles at her man, “So sexy, Slugger.”

“That’s right!” Clove cries out. “You two twats like to hit balls at the batting cage.”

“I’m beginning to think getting her drunk was a bad idea,” Pax mumbles while yanking on his shirt. “She’s gone full lush.”

Clove tries to help me get dressed, but I end up with my shirt on backward, and my jacket is upside down.

“I’ll make a great mother,” she coos as I fix my clothes.

“Do you want to hit balls with us?” Bebe asks once I’m dressed.

Clove doesn’t answer for us. She’s too busy climbing inside my jacket to get closer to me. I fully support Clove’s affection even though I highly doubt she’ll be safe to drive anywhere.

“Sure, but you foxes didn’t happen to drive here in a car, did you?”

“Of course.”

“Mind taking Clove with you? She’s too drunk to drive, and I can’t have her falling off my Harley if she rides bitch.”

“I don’t ride bitch,” she says and stomps her foot. “It’s the act of a loser.”

“Ginger rides bitch,” I point out while leading her out to the parking lot.

“Oh, yeah,” Clove says, giggling. “I sometimes forget she’s in love and stupid now. I’m clearly in denial about her current state of wimpiness.”

Once Clove is strapped into Shay’s car, I walk to my Harley. Surprising me, she rolls down the window and waves enthusiastically. The alcohol might be the trigger for her clingy mood, but I tell myself she got drunk so she could say and do what her sober self won’t allow.