Chapter 8
Reaper
As the door shuts behind that cunt Kelly and the fucking Coxes, the knot in my chest loosens slightly.
I barely hear Lark apologizing to the other customers, but from the looks on everyone’s faces, they’re behind her one hundred percent in this shit show.
More than once, I saw a few people look like they wanted to deck the fuckers.
Even Kelly a few times. Time will deal out karma to them.
Karma that my brothers and I will dole out, if need be, and that assurance loosens the knot in my chest even further.
Lark steps forward, and instantly, my fingers twitch with wanting to have her back in my arms again.
“Thank you all for standing up for me and supporting me.” She swallows thickly, and a nervous look crosses her face.
Thank fuck we were here tonight, though our arrival was purely by chance.
I don’t want to think what could have happened if Lark had to endure that all by herself.
However, from the talk around town, I knew she would have been able to handle it.
She pulled a double-barreled shotgun on them the other night for fuck’s sake, but I was glad she didn’t have to face them alone tonight.
Looking down at her, I smile. “Of course, Lark. No one should have been subjected to that.” I pause, wanting to make sure she is paying attention for this next part.
“You and your family are a staple in this community. I don’t think, especially after tonight, that you’ll have to worry about anything. But if you do, we’re here for you.”
It’s as much as I can commit to right now.
I’ll be her friend and look out for her and her family, but I can’t drag her into our world.
I’ve always had a gut feeling about Lark and for years I’ve wanted her as my woman.
Whenever we talked, which was usually at the supper club, conversation flowed naturally.
I was always drawn to her and being around her calmed me.
That’s probably why I frequent the supper club so much.
Fuck, some of my behavior might even be considered stalkerish since I also follow everything she posts on social media.
However, Lark’s, too pure, too good for someone who has as much blood on their hands as I do.
She blushes and fuck does that pink stain on her cheeks make her even more fucking gorgeous than she already is. She swallows thickly and nods. “Still, thank you.”
The corner of my lips kicks up, but then my stomach sours. She should never have to thank me for anything. Before I can say that though, she steps around me and heads back toward the bar.
Devil clasps my shoulder. “You’re fucking stupid, man. You should go for it,” he says under his breath.
Devil’s one of the few that knows about my obsession with Lark, but every time I say she’s not meant to be in our world, he just shakes his head and calls me a fucking idiot.
Maybe I am, but I’ll just have to deal with being her friend and protector.
I’ve known Lark for years—fuck, I was a couple of grades ahead of her in school.
Back then, she had out shone everyone, and though she was shy, she still had a way of drawing people to her. Something she still possesses today.
Following Lark, my gaze snags on her perfect ass as she walks.
She’s dressed in her usual wardrobe—black jeans and a black polo with their logo on it, a picture of a cabin overlooking a lake with the forest in the background and a bear walking nearby.
Underneath that is their name, Great Bear Supper Club.
She’s wearing black boots, which is probably a must for traction on the mats that are behind the bar, and her long, brown hair is pulled back from her face in a loose braid.
Her makeup is subtle, and instead of looking caked on like Kelly’s and Jessica Cox’s, hers enhances her beauty.
“Oh, your drink,” she says and her voice has me blinking out of my thoughts. She cocks an eyebrow in question at me. “Still want me to surprise you?”
I lean against the bar, grinning as I nod, and she starts preparing my drink after getting a fresh glass.
When she turns around to grab something from under the counter, bending to do so, I suck in a breath again as my gaze snags on her perfect ass.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have her pressed against me, or better yet, under me.
Shaking myself internally, I try to clear the lust in my veins.
She’s too pure, I remind myself over and over.
Lark turns back around, and pink stains her cheeks as she catches me staring at her. I should try to hide the fact that I was checking her out, but I don’t. The corner of my lips kicks up into a small grin, and the blush on her cheeks darkens as she finishes making my drink.
I nod at the fact that she chose the Goslings Black Seal rum. It’s good rum but I don’t drink it too often. Normally when I’m at the clubhouse or around home, I stick to beer.
Her gaze snags again on my arms, in particular my right arm and my sleeve tattoo, and I have to bite back a groan when her teeth sink into her lower lip as her chocolate eyes darken. A moment later, it’s almost like she’s been doused with ice water, and her happy expression and rosy cheeks fade.
I don’t like it.
Especially since I’m almost positive I know where her mind went. But then I curse myself internally again. I’m not here to make her mine. I’m here to protect her.
“Dark and stormy, on the house.”
I cock an eyebrow at her at that last bit, because I sure as shit am going to be paying for this drink. Lifting the glass, I take a sip, and damn does it go down smooth. I frown as I try to place the flavors.
“Bold but spicy, with a bit of caramel and… something else?” My brow furrows as I think, but I just can’t place it.
Lark chuckles and fuck does the throaty sound go straight to my cock. “A little bit of toffee and vanilla. Do you like it? I saw you ordered whiskey on the rocks earlier and decided to take a chance and go in the opposite direction. While similar, whiskey and rum are also very different.”
I nod as I take another sip, and her eyes sparkle as she smiles, happy that I like the drink.
“How are they different?” I’ve never really thought about the differences between the drinks, but judging by how her face lights up even more, it was the right question to keep her talking to me. Turns out, I’ve already become addicted to the sound of her voice.
“Well, rum is made from sugarcane, while whiskey is made from grains, like wheat, rye, and barley. Rum is usually sweeter, whereas whiskey is a bit more smoky. The color is also different. Whiskey is usually brown or amber and rum is either clear or dark. And don’t even get me started on how bad other rums taste if you try to use them in this drink—,” she pauses, almost as if she just realized she was about to go on a tangent.
Her cheeks pinken and she ducks her head slightly.
“Sorry, I tend ramble a lot when I’m talking about drinks—either mixed ones or brewing them. ”
Fuck, I could listen to her talk for forever. I grin slightly as that gorgeous blush deepens. “It’s alright.”
I’m cut off by the sound of a machine near the register that starts spitting out tickets and Lark pins them to some sort of contraption on the ledge of the bar facing her that holds the tickets in place.
“So, what else is different about them? If you don’t mind me asking?” She hesitates and I realize I probably overstepped. “Sorry, I should let you get back to work. I didn’t mean to keep you. It just sounded interesting and it’s obvious that it’s a passion of yours.”
She stares at me in shock, her lips parting slightly before she blinks and seems to shake herself internally. Has no one ever noticed how passionate she gets? My mind immediately goes to that Aiden fucker. He probably never even showed a lick of interest in learning about her. She blushes again.
“No, it’s fine if you stay.”
Lark starts mixing the first drink, and it’s obvious by her motions that she knows this bar like the back of her hand.
She doesn’t guess where something is—she knows exactly where every item is stocked.
In other bars, I’ve seen bartenders shuffling between rows of spirits and liquor to find the right bottle.
I’ve also seen other bartenders referring to a book on how to make mixed drinks.
Granted, they could have been new, but I highly doubted it in some cases.
“I’ve been mixing drinks for years. Ever since I was kid I have been interested in the science behind mixology and brewing.
I think I was around ten or eleven when Pappy and Grandpa George started explaining to me how they make their beers.
Since then, brewing, mixing drinks, and learning the history about them has become one of my hobbies.
” She pauses as she places a drink on a tray with its ticket toward the other end of the bar.
As she walks back toward me, she grabs a few bottles off the back wall. “So, about those differences.”
I’m not sure how long we’ve been talking when Lark’s mom, Emma, brings my plate up to the bar without a word.
Lark smiles softly at Emma, and as Emma is about to head through the door to the kitchen, she mouths ‘thank you’ to me behind Lark’s back.
I tilt my head at her. There’s no way I could have just stood by and let Lark deal with that shitstorm on her own.
Even if I wasn’t into her, I would have stepped in. I can’t stand that kind of shit.
As Lark and I continue talking, the anxiety that had been previously coursing through her ever since Kelly and the Coxes showed up seems to leave her. I also learn that not only does Lark enjoy brewing her own beer, she also loves to carve wood, bow hunt, and read in her spare time.
Someone pats me on the shoulder and I turn to see Devil and my other brothers standing behind him.