“I don’t know anything about biker gangs,” I lied and cringed at the term. I knew all motorcycle clubs weren’t outlaws, just like all wealthy Irish businessmen weren’t part of the mob. What I didn’t know was if his club had any enemies, particularly Irish ones.
He shook his head. His devilish grin made me squirm in my seat. “We’re a club, not a gang,” he corrected, not surprising me in the least. I knew it was a touchy subject for members of that lifestyle.
“Okay,” I said, pretending to be blissfully unaware of my faux pas. “Will you tell me about your club?”
He sat back in the corner and draped his porn-worthy arms along the back of the booth. “We’re not outlaws, Sweet Sloane, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, of course not,” I said and waved my hand dismissively. “I was asking what kinds of things a motorcycle club does? Do you just ride around on your bikes together on the weekends?” Admittedly, I was genuinely interested in hearing his answer.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh shit. I haven’t heard that one before.”
“So that’s a no?”
“That’s a no. We’re a club, but we operate as a business,” he explained. “A business that owns and runs a group of businesses.”
“So, like a corporation or an enterprise?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
I reached for a glass of water and, after digging through my purse, dropped a metal straw into it, taking a large gulp of ice-cold water. “Mmm,” I groaned, not realizing how thirsty I was.
“That’s kind of wicked,” he mumbled and shifted in his seat.
I winked. “I know.”
“Wait,” he said and held up his hand. Pointing to my glass, he asked, “What is that?”
“This?” I asked and touched my straw. At his nod, I explained, “A metal straw.” When he stared at me blankly, I continued, “You know, to reduce the amount of plastic ones that end up in the ocean killing important marine life.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just drink from the cup?” he asked.
“I prefer to wrap my lips around the tip and suck,” I said in an overly seductive tone.
“I’d love to see that,” he breathed.
Leaning forward, I closed my lips around the straw and slowly sipped my drink. “There. You’re welcome.”
He grinned again. Damn, the man was positively sinful. Sparkling blue eyes, dark blonde hair, muscles, tattoos, leather, and a few visible piercings. He ticked off every one of the boxes on my list, including a neatly trimmed beard.
“Bronze!” Layla shouted from behind the bar where a large group of people had gathered.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “She needs my help. I’ll be back after we take care of that crowd. Enjoy your drinks while I’m gone,” he said and scooted two BWOLs I hadn’t noticed toward me.
I shook my head. “I’m not drinking any more on an empty stomach,” I said vehemently. “I learned that lesson long before my twenty-first birthday.”
“Good thing this is a bar and grill,” he grinned and stopped the waitress passing by.
“Hey, Bronze,” she cooed and batted her eyelashes at him. “Do you need something?”
“Yeah, Table Seventeen needs a Triple Threat and bring two more BWOLs when it comes out.”
“Got it. Should be about ten minutes,” she said and almost skipped away.
He directed his attention back to me. “I shouldn’t be long.”
Damn it. I was just gearing up to ask him if Heidi was working. While he was gone, I made the best of it and used the time to scan the area looking for Heidi or Paige. Based on the pictures I’d seen, wherever one was, the other was there too. Unfortunately, I didn’t see either one of them anywhere in Precious Metals.
Surprisingly, he returned to the booth moments before the young waitress returned with the order he placed.
“Is she even old enough to work here?” I asked, unsure of why her presence irritated me. Regardless, I failed to hide my annoyance, and Bronze picked up on it.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, she is.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do I even want to know why you know her age?”
“Because I’m one of the owners of this bar.”
“Oh,” I said, genuinely surprised and popped a piece of fried goodness into my mouth, groaning obscenely when I bit into it. For a split second. Then, the scalding hot cheese made contact with my tongue. “Ah! Hahhht!” I shouted as I spit the wad of steaming goo into a napkin. Then, I promptly downed both BWOLs and half of my glass of