Rock Bridge is my new town. I’m not going to be scared anymore.
No one else around the bar talks to me while I drink—either my body language tells them to leave me alone or, more likely, seeing Smith punch the shit out of Dan warned them off. The beer is room temperature at this point, but I don’t care. Over the next twenty minutes, I stubbornly finish the entire thing. And the whole time, Smith ignores me. Either he’s completely forgotten I even exist or he’s trying to prove something to me.
That I don’t belong.
When my mug is empty, I just sit there with a slight buzz, debating what to do. Pride keeps me seated on the stool for longer than I probably need to be.
“Can I get you another?” a purring male voice says. I glance up to see a dirty-blond guy who looks like Smith, but a couple of years younger and with a smooth-shaven face, eyeing me from behind the bar. He cocks a crooked grin my way, a practiced smile that I bet probably dissolves a lot of girls’ panties.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I nod. Fuck it. I’m not letting anyone control me, not ex-boyfriends or rude bar owners. “Yes, thank you.” I shove the mug in his direction.
He rinses it and refills it, handing it to me. With a wink, he says, “Hi, I’m Jax. Welcome to Rock Bridge. Quite the welcoming committee we’ve gathered for you tonight, huh?”
I can’t help it. I laugh. This guy knows he’s hot, is a ridiculous flirt, and I needed the release of tension right now. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting all of this.”
Jax’s mouth quirks. “Outlaws is a rough place. Can take a while to get used to.” With that, he gives me a nod then swaggers away to serve other customers.
He’s cute, of course. But he doesn’t have the same effect on me as Smith, who is probably his brother or cousin. Something about Smith makes my whole body feel alive. Damn him, because I don’t want to be attracted to him. He’s a jerk.
I can see what Jax means about Outlaws. This whole night has been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—scary, yet also kind of exciting, if I’m honest. Maybe I need a little excitement in my life. Something to shake me up and remind me I’m alive.
I stubbornly refuse to look at Smith as I work on my new beer. I can sense him behind the bar, moving around, waiting on customers. Knowing this is his bar makes him seem even bigger and more powerful than he was before.
Powerful and intriguing.
Damn him.
When I drain the last of my beer mug, I toss a twenty on the bar—I’m sure it’s more than enough to cover the two beers and a tip—and hop off the barstool. I can feel Smith’s eyes on me, and my skin vibrates. I make myself turn and stare boldly at him. Tension crackles in the air between us.
He wants to challenge me? I’ll take that challenge.
I’m going to come back and prove to him, and to me, that I can handle this.
Smith
One week later
“Smith,” Maria says to me in her high, breathy voice. She leans over the bar and parts her lips in a seductive manner, one finger sliding along her lower lip. “I’m soooo thirsty. Can you give me something to fill my mouth?”
That’s the thing with Maria. I never have to guess what she wants. And what she usually wants is a hard fuck. Still, she’s loaded right now, more so than usual, so I grab a glass of water and push it toward her. “Drink this.”
She pouts and thrusts her pert breasts in the air. “But I don’t want water. I want something else, thick and creamy.”
I admit, it’s tempting. The girl can suck a dick like she was born to do the job, and it’s been a while since I’ve indulged. Probably her mini stint in the amateur porn industry gives her an edge. But she’s been clingy lately, not just wanting sex. Hinting that she’d like more. As in a real date—dinner, movies.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” I murmur to her then move away from that end of the bar before she can say anything else.
Maria shrugs and turns her attention to the guy on the stool beside her.
I focus on cleaning the glassware. The crowd is unusually small for a Friday night, but it’s because there’s a home football game at the local high school. The town goes nuts for the Warriors. Not me, of course. Fuck that place.
Nothing but bad memories there.
I’m in the middle of pouring a fresh beer for Sam, one of the locals who practically lives in the same stool he frequents every night, when she walks in.
Miss Innocent.
My chest tightens a fraction. The fuck? I thought last Friday would have scared her enough to keep her away. Fresh meat like her shouldn’t frequent a bar like Outlaws. She’ll be torn apart.