Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,81

sanctuary, and there’s no reason not to feel safe there.

“Hey, washa doing on your own?”

“Road?” I spin around. My relief he’s here with me and not the scantily clad girl is immense.

It shouldn’t be.

His unsteady hand reaches out and touches my hair. As it’s short, he also ends up massaging my scalp. “So soft,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Why don’t yous and Is get to know each other, besher, babe?”

He’s playing with fire using the ‘babe’ word on me. Especially as I find I actually like it coming out of his mouth and my scalp is tingling where his fingers touched it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Road.” I move his hand away.

“Awh, com’on. How about a kissh?”

I hear a loud intake of breath from behind the bar, and glancing that way, see Igor standing stiffly, poised as though ready to witness a fight.

“Not a good idea,” I repeat, softly. Road’s drunk, otherwise he’d never be coming on to me. “There are the hangarounds who’d love to give you some attention, Road.”

“Nah, I want the prettieessh girl in the room.” Again his hand reaches out to touch my face, and I prevent it reaching its destination.

“Not going to happen, Road,” I tell him, firmly.

“Awh, babe.” Swaying, he leans in perilously close and gives an exaggerated wink, pausing a little too long to open his eye again. I want to laugh as he’s actually adorable. “I can showsh you a good time, babe.” He tries to put his arm around me.

“Christ, he’s got some balls. Surprised you’re leaving them where they are.” Catching my eye, Thor winks at me.

I’ve surprised myself, too, that I’m not emasculating him for his overt advances and tell myself it’s because he’s drunk that I’ve got sympathy for him. But a circle of brothers is forming, and I narrow my eyes, suspecting soon they’ll be making bets on exactly how this is going to play out.

Abruptly, I step away, causing Road to crash against the bar, needing it to support him. I have to extricate myself from this situation and fast.

“No, Road,” I tell him, firmly. “It’s not going to happen. Igor?” I say to the very interested onlooker. “I’m off home. Tell Snatcher and Pip where I’ve gone, will you?”

Igor’s answering grin is a mile wide. “Sure… babe.”

I start to move but Preacher is there, holding me back, but it’s the prospect he addresses. “You show fuckin’ disrespect and you can kiss your fuckin’ future patch goodbye.”

Igor raises his hands, his grin disappearing fast and his face going taut. “It was a joke. And he said it first.”

“He’s a patched member,” Preacher reminds him. “Who—” He breaks off as Road slides to the floor, his legs outstretched in front of him. He’s chuckling quietly to himself, oh, and then belches loudly, which sets him off laughing again. The sergeant-at-arms shakes his head, then continues, “Who’s fuckin’ had too much to drink. Come on.” Preacher releases me, then stretches out a muscular arm to help Road to his feet. “Let’s find somewhere for you to crash for the night.”

“You clean my bike with your fuckin’ toothbrush tomorrow.” I glare at Igor. “Then you can use it to scrub the heads.”

“Ma’am.” He salutes me.

Glaring at him, I grin when my back is now turned toward the prospect. Guess fun times are ahead when… if, Igor patches in. I’ll enjoy taking time to teach him some manners.

At least Road seems to be an affable drunk, that’s one thing going for him. I wonder if he’ll remember making a pass at me when he wakes up?

I hope he doesn’t. It will be embarrassing if I have to brush an apology off. At least I don’t have to worry about him going off with one of the girls tonight. Tipsy? Sure, he’d still get it up. Passed out drunk? Different matter entirely. My mind can be at ease tonight.

“You off?”

The voice coming from the shadows off to my left doesn’t startle me. Years of training have my senses always on the alert, and I’d seen the man there long before he’d started speaking.

“Yeah.” I raise my chin toward Rascal. “I’m heading to my place tonight.”

“Need some peace and quiet?”

At that moment, the music inside is turned up, and I grimace and nod. Yeah, Rascal’s right. Despite them keeping the jukebox at a respectable volume while I’d been around, just the sheer level of noise from people talking louder the more they had to drink and bottles and glasses clinking was