It’s my job to please my customers, to an extent. I don’t fuck around with the women that come here. In fact, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman in my arms. Too damn long, but none of these young ladies inspire the man in me. That’s the problem.
When you get to a certain age, everything starts to tail off, and I think that’s been the case for me for the past six years. When Boomer had offered this opportunity, I jumped, hoping it would change the downward trajectory my life had taken, and for the most part it has.
War, government, and death leave a stain on you that you can’t wash off, and sometimes it gets the better of you. Now, I wasn’t suicidal—thank fuck for that—but I had no direction until Boomer offered this town. I’d grown tired of leading men into battle and covert operations, hoping I didn’t send one of them to their death.
“Boss,” I hear Blade call from the other end of the bar, but I’m busy at the moment, so his ass can wait.
“Give me a minute,” I tell him without taking my eyes off my task. I’ve got six damn drinks to make and as soon as I get these women served, I’ll deal with his request. Blade is one of the Steele Riders like myself—one of my boys, and Roxie’s big brother.
“Ooh, he’s hot too. Damn. I’ve got a hot daddy and a sexy biker. Talk about a Sandra sandwich. Are you boys up for it?” She leans over to Blade, who has moved closer.
The young woman gives me an uncomfortable feeling; that doesn’t happen often and rarely ever from a female unless she’s an assassin, which she’s most definitely not.
“Sorry, not interested,” we both say at the same time. I look up, and that’s the first time that I see Blade’s not alone. Standing next to him is a rare fucking beauty. Shit.
I set the shakers down because my hands are no longer steady and neither is my heart. The old ticker is beating hard against my ribcage. I haven’t felt this intense of a rush since the middle of a firefight, but that was fear. This is completely different.
“Sam, can you handle these ladies when you’re done? Blade and I have some things to discuss.” Like how Blade needs to leave, and I need to be carrying this woman back to my home where I plan to worship her until the end of our days. It’s like I’ve somehow dreamed of her, and she’s come to life before my very eyes.
“Boss, I don’t need anything, but I wanted to show my pretty girl, here, around.” I snarl at him, ready to jump over the bar and pound his face in as Sam moves toward us but is stopped by a spill.
“Hello, I’m Emiliano’s mother.” I take her hand and bring it to my lips. Electricity shoots through me from every part of me that touches her skin, from the soft feel of my lips on the back of her hand to the tingling of her fingers wrapped up in mine.
“No, you can’t be his mother. You’re too fucking young.” I met the guy, and he’s too old to be her son. He’s got to be close to thirty, and there’s no way she’s my age or older.
I bite back the sting of jealousy that plagues me, knowing that she’d been in love with another man and had given him a child, but from the lack of a ring on her finger and with Blade escorting her around, I’m sure there’s no Mr. Martin in the picture anymore.
“Thank you. It’s the lighting here. It’s lying to you, because I’m an old lady,” she says with a self-deprecating smile, and from the way she reacts, her words are legitimately how she feels. She believes it, and it breaks my heart instantly because she’s stunning. Her thick, dark hair sits in waves over one shoulder, and I ache to run my hands through its silky texture.
This woman’s gold with a couple of spots that need to be buffed out from years of self-doubt that has worn her down. I’ll fix that for sure because I know we’re going to have the rest of our lives together.
“Seriously. Our drinks. We need to go to another town. I heard there were hot biker guys here, but damn, they are into old hags.” My head whips to the woman who was just hitting on me, and I hit her with the dirtiest scowl that would send my men back on their heels. She flinches and stumbles backward off the stool, nearly hitting her ass on the floor. I don’t give a fuck if she busts her fucking head.
“Get out—now,” I bark out. No one speaks about my woman like that—ever.