Chapter 3 #2
I risk a glance Lee’s way, but he’s turned away from me, watching the players at the pool table. His jaw is tight, shoulders rigid, like he’s working very hard to ignore me.
Good. We’re on the same page.
They settle at their usual table in the back corner, and I watch Mercy work. She’s clearly someone who’s served bikers before, friendly but not flirty, respectful but not intimidated. Within minutes, she’s got them laughing, and the tension I hadn’t even realized I was carrying starts to ease.
The crowd begins to pick up as the Friday night regulars drift in. It’s busy and chaotic, but manageable. I find a flow with the waitresses, laughing and joking with them as we trade empties and cash for full glasses of whatever beverage our patrons desire.
I keep an eye on the bikers, but they stay in their back corner, playing pool and shooting the shit. It’s an hour or so before one of the younger members separates from the group and approaches the bar.
His cut identifies him as Bones, the tail gunner, and he leans against the bar with an easy grin. He’s maybe late twenties, dark hair a little too long, mischief written all over him, and laugh lines that suggest he’s more about having a good time than causing trouble.
“Well, well,” he says, giving me a slow once-over that somehow manages to feel more curious than sleazy. “So you’re the new boss lady. Devil’s been pretty tight-lipped about you.”
I keep polishing glasses, but I meet his gaze with a smile. “That’s me. Kya.”
“Bones,” he replies, offering his hand across the bar. His handshake is firm but not aggressive. “Gotta say, this place looks good. You’ve done good work.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious. You’ve done the impossible. You’ve made Devil’s feel clean. I mean, it’s still a dive, but like, a dive with standards.”
“High praise,” I deadpan, quietly amused by him.
He grins. “Seriously. I’ve seen a lot of MC bars. Most smell like sweat, beer, and bad decisions. This one smells like… Pine-Sol.”
That makes me laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” He leans in just slightly. “If you need help with anything—fixing things, heavy lifting, threatening unsavory customers—I’m your guy. I work for beer and flattery.”
“I’ve got a fridge full of one, and I’m not above the other.”
He places a hand over his chest, mock-swooning. “Marry me.”
I raise a brow. “You’re that easy?”
“Ma’am,” he says, grinning, “I’m a biker, of course I’m easy.”
That earns another laugh, and for a moment, I forget the weight of grief and pressure and small-town eyes.
It feels… nice.
“What can I get you?”
“Three of whatever is on tap, a cider, and a packet of those pretzels.”
“Got it.”
I turn to grab a glass, I feel it—that prickle at the back of my neck. The unmistakable weight of someone watching.
I glance up, instinct pulling my eyes toward the far corner of the room.
Lee.
He’s seated in the shadows, beer in hand, gaze locked on me. Not angry. Not amused. Just watching, his expression utterly unreadable.
My stomach does a slow, traitorous flip.
I turn back to the tap, pretending I didn’t see him. Pretending my hands aren’t shaking just the tiniest bit as I pour the next beer.
Stop it, Kya!
Bones nudges a coaster across the bar with one finger. “But seriously—grab dinner with me sometime. Low pressure. I promise not to propose unless the food’s really good.”
Before I can respond, Lee appears beside him as if he materialized out of thin air. “Bones.”
“Hey, brother.” Bones doesn’t move, seemingly unfazed by Lee’s sudden appearance. “Just welcoming our new neighbor to the community. You met Kya?”
Lee doesn’t even look at him. His eyes are all on me. And suddenly the bar feels a few degrees warmer.
His voice is low. “Yeah, I’ve met her.” Something about the way he says it makes my stomach drop. And flutter.
Bones’s brows lift slightly. He looks between us, catching whatever undercurrent just passed through the air. “Right,” he says with a slow, easy grin. “There’s history here.”
I turn away from Lee, smiling at Bones. “I was best friend’s with Lee’s sister back in school.”
“You aren’t still?”
I shake my head with a laugh. “We’re still friends, but she’s gone on to bigger and better things in New York.”
“The dancer, right?”
Lee nods once.
“And you?” Bones asks, glancing between us. “With a smokeshow like Kya—you two ever have anything?”
I flush, glancing away as I place the final drink on a tray. “No. Lee was too cool for a dweeb chick like me.”
“You weren’t a dweeb.” Lee’s sharp denial surprises me.
“Excuse me?” I gesture to myself. “Dude, I was grade A awkward.”
He makes a frustrated sound under his breath. “No, you weren’t.”
I cross my arms, eyebrows raised. “You do realize I wore knee-length cargo shorts and read Lord of the Rings fanfic on my phone during lunch, right?”
His jaw flexes. “And? Reading doesn’t make you awkward. Way I remember it, you were smart and funny. And gorgeous. You always have been.”
I freeze.
Oh.
Bones whistles low, dragging his drink toward him like he just scored ringside seats. “Well damn. You two selling tickets to this show, or am I just lucky to be here?”
I snort, trying to break the tension with humor even as my stomach tightens. “Lee’s joking,” I say, reaching for my dishrag. “He knows he’s wrong.”
“I’m not.”
There’s a beat of awkwardness before Bones stands. “Well, it’s been nice to meet you, Kya. Offer stands if you change your mind.” He claps Lee on the shoulder. “See you back at the table.”
Lee makes a noncommittal noise, his gaze locked on me as Bones lifts the tray of drinks with one hand and carries his own glass back to their table.
With Bones gone, tension creeps in. A moment hangs between Lee and I, and I can sense the subtle shift in dynamics. He breaks the silence.
“Sorry about that.”
“About what? Bones being polite, charming, and asking me to dinner?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You should be careful. He’s a player.”
I snort, amused. “And you’re not?”
His expression hardens slightly. “I’m looking out for you.”
“I don’t need looking out for, Lee. I’m not seventeen anymore.”
Something flickers across his face at that—memory, maybe, or acknowledgment. “No,” he says quietly. “You’re definitely not.”
Goosebumps rise along my skin, a honey heat uncurling in my belly at his admission.
I want to prod him, ask him why he said it the way he did, but he nods once and heads back to his table, leaving me with the distinct feeling that this conversation is far from over.
After they’re both back at their table, Mercy slides over, shaking her head with an amused smile. “Well, that was interesting.”
“Part of the job,” I say, trying to project calm I don’t entirely feel.
“Honey, I’ve been serving drinks for most of my adult life, and I know a pissing contest when I see it.” She glances toward the corner table where Lee is pointedly not looking in our direction. “That man’s got some serious feelings brewing.”
“It’s complicated,” I say finally.
“The best ones always are.” Mercy grins and heads back to her tables, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the awareness that Lee’s presence seems to fill the entire bar, even when he’s trying to ignore me.
The rest of the night passes without incident.
The MC table stays through last call, their voices low and serious as they discuss whatever club business brought them here.
Lee doesn’t approach the bar again, but I feel his eyes on me throughout the evening—a steady, watchful presence that should annoy me but instead makes me feel strangely safe.
When they finally leave, Duck stops by the bar to settle their tab. “Good drinks, good service,” he says, dropping cash on the bar with a generous tip. “We’ll be back.”
“You’re always welcome here,” I tell him, and mean it.
He nods, then leans in slightly, voice dropping to just above a whisper. “Anyone gives you trouble, you call.”
My throat goes tight. “Thank you.”
He straightens. “Night, Kya.”
They file out into the cold night air, engines roaring to life in the parking lot. I watch through the window as they disappear into the darkness, Lee bringing up the rear on his black Harley.
“You okay?” Mercy asks, starting to stack chairs on tables.
“Yeah,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure that’s true. “Just thinking.”
We’re adults now. Complicated, damaged adults with histories and baggage and no good reason to be circling each other like this.
I just hope we’re both smart enough not to do anything stupid.