Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Asher
Blaze sat two stools down from me, elbows on the bar, boots hooked around the rungs like he wasn’t planning on going anywhere soon.
Cookie had poured us both a whiskey and slid one my way without asking. He knew better than to ask.
I wrapped my fingers around the glass and took a slow drink, letting the burn settle. It felt good to be here.
“Still hard to believe,” Blaze said, staring into his glass, “we’ve got over fifty bikes registered.”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “Sixty to be exact.”
He shot me a look. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Well, damn,” he said, lifting his glass. “Guess people really do like free donuts and pretending we’re not terrifying.”
“Charity brings the good out in people,” I replied. “I think it’s a good look for the club.”
Blaze snorted. “Never thought I’d hear that out of your mouth.”
I shrugged. “Things change.”
He took another drink, then glanced at me sideways. “So,” he said, dragging the word out like he was enjoying himself already. “How are the girly flowers coming along?”
I chuckled despite myself, low and quiet. “Juliet’s killing it.”
“Oh?” He perked up immediately. “Using glitter? Maybe some bows?”
I shook my head. “Clean. Simple. Red and white. Secured better than half the aftermarket crap we bolt onto our bikes.”
Blaze laughed. “That’s not what I pictured when you said flowers.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s why it works.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “You sound impressed.”
“I am.”
“She got you running errands for ribbons yet?”
“No,” I said. Then paused. “But she did mock up a handlebar mount better than anything I’ve seen.”
Blaze whistled. “Damn. Hopefully, the Chrome Warriors don’t have a heyday with that. They like to come at us for the stupidest shit.”
My jaw tightened without me meaning to. “They better not be anywhere near the ride,” I said flatly.
Blaze’s grin faded. “Yeah. I know.”
I rolled the glass between my palms, staring at the amber liquid instead of him. “If they pull something, they won’t get a warning.”
“They won’t,” Blaze said. “Moore’s got eyes everywhere.”
“Eyes don’t stop stupid,” I replied. The Chrome Warriors were a bunch of idiots on bikes. It was amazing to me that they were able to do anything.
Blaze shrugged. “True. But neither do nerves. We’ve got three days.”
I nodded. Three days. That was it.
Three days until the ride rolled out. Until we proved we could do something good without blood or bullshit attached. Three days until I could stop watching corners and mirrors and wondering if someone was going to make a statement.
Three days until Juliet was done.
I took another drink, slower this time.
Blaze leaned back on his stool, studying me now instead of his glass. “You’ve been hanging around that flower shop a lot lately, though.”
I didn’t answer and didn’t look at him either, just took another sip.
“That came out of nowhere,” he added, like he hadn’t meant it as an accusation. Just an observation.
I set my glass down, finally meeting his eyes. “Most good things do.”
Blaze blinked once. Then twice. “Well,” he said slowly, a grin creeping back in. “Shit.”
I shook my head. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
He laughed. “Fair.”
We sat in silence for a minute, the radio filling the space. A Lynyrd Skynyrd song drifted through the room, something about regret and whiskey and bad timing. Fitting.
“She’s different,” Blaze said finally.
That made me look at him. “I haven’t said a word about her,” I replied.
“No,” he agreed. “But you don’t have to.”
I exhaled through my nose. “I’m not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking it to death. Labeling it. Turning it into a thing before it’s even—”
“Okay,” Blaze cut in, hands up. “Relax. I’m not handing out relationship advice.”
“Good,” I muttered.
He smirked. “Just don’t fuck it up.”
“I’m trying not to, man.” I finished my drink and set the glass down on the bar.
“She’s different. I haven’t met her, but I can tell.”
I didn’t argue.
Juliet wasn’t flashy. Wasn’t loud. She didn’t flirt for leverage or soften for approval. She stood her ground without turning it into a performance. She saw through bullshit and didn’t bother calling it out unless it mattered.
She also worked harder than anyone I knew and didn’t pretend it was anything but necessary. That kind of woman didn’t wander into your life gently.
“She is different,” I finally said.
Blaze nodded, surprisingly serious. “I believe you.”
“Another?” Blaze asked, grabbing the bottle.
“Yeah,” I said.
He poured.
We clinked glasses, and I tossed the shot back.
To rides. To flowers. To things that came out of nowhere. To different.