going?”
For a heartbeat, she had no response to that. No… we only fucked in the kitchen? I’ve been looking out for him all night?
Fact was, she liked Dixon. So far, he hadn’t shown any of the same tendencies the rest of the loser bad-boys she gravitated to did, such as cheating, lying or even trying to control her. Still, she hadn’t learned all those lessons for nothing—she’d exercise caution and keep her guard up.
“He always comes in with you. Only wondered where he’s at tonight,” she told Tank.
His grin never left his face. “The guy’s into you big time.”
She paused mid-grab for two beer mugs. How to brush off his revelation as if it didn’t matter to her when her heart knocked like an engine out of time in her chest?
“I serve beer—everyone loves me.” She poured both drafts and then set them before him. “I’ll call out your order as soon as they’re up.”
Tank gave her a nod and wrapped his huge hands around the mugs. Fiona watched him shoulder his way through the crowd to a table where a pretty girl sat. She hadn’t seen Tank in here with anybody other than his friends before.
She slanted a look at the entrance again, hoping to see Dixon. Okay, this infatuation of hers was getting out of control. So they had an afternoon romp in the kitchen. That didn’t mean wedding bells and her riding on the back of his Harley dragging tin cans behind them.
She centered herself and then hurried into the kitchen to pull up wings from the fryer and throw more into the oil. As she turned to set the food baskets on the clean and sterilized prep table, she paused. Memories shot into her mind—thick, hot reminders of Dixon. She even saw that twisted scar on his thigh that only told more stories about the man.
And she wanted to hear every damn one.
With a shake, she grabbed the baskets and hurried out into the bar.
As soon as she stepped out, she felt the change in atmosphere. It felt as though a storm cloud had descended over the Painted Pig, bringing ice-cold temperatures. One glance at the men lined up in the doorway and she saw why.
The Mayhem returned.
A few people moved away from the guys with formidable glares on their faces, and a couple she didn’t even have a chance to serve drinks to yet skedaddled out the door.
Quickly, she shoved the wings at the customer who ordered them and reached for her ball bat. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tank stand. The girl with him said something, but he shook his head and folded his arms across his broad chest.
When the guy she believed to be the leader of the biker gang approached the bar, she gripped the bat tighter and kept a hand ready to speed-dial the sheriff. Or her brothers. Maybe both.
“I don’t want any trouble here tonight,” she said.
He cocked a brow. “No trouble from us, sweetheart. We’re only here for drafts and wings.”
She’d already lost several more customers in a steady stream exiting the bar as the Mayhem crowded in more. As she looked on, a biker kicked a man off his stool and perched there as if he owned the place.
Wrong, dude. I own this place.
She slid her phone from her pocket and set it on the surface where she mixed drinks. A swipe of her finger and she called Lake. When the call went unanswered, she tried Noah. Then down the line to Syd and finally her youngest brother JT.
“Beers and wings for all of us,” the leader growled out. “Now swish your pretty ass to the kitchen and get started.”
At his words, all twenty-five or so of his men hooted with laughter. Heat climbed her cheeks and sat there burning like two coals of humiliation.
One thing growing up with four tough brothers had taught her was that power was everything. Even having the upper hand over a game of Scrabble meant something in her family, and feeling so helpless now pissed her off.
She threw Tank a look. The man hadn’t sat down again, but stood there like a sentry with legs braced apart and his strength on full display.
What could she do but start racking up the beer mugs on the bar top? She kept her head down and her eyes on her task, but she knew the residents of Mersey were staring at her, waiting for her to make the right move, which would