Chapter Five #2
When Rags walked inside the diner, a few people milled in the small waiting room and a couple customers hovered around the cash register.
He scanned the room, searching for Clara, but she wasn’t there.
He spotted Maddie carrying a tray piled with plates and glasses as she maneuvered in between the booths and tables.
She looked over and a big smile spread across her face.
He tipped his head at her and rocked back on his heels.
The curly-haired waitress put the tray down at the end of the silver-speckled counter and walked over.
“You eating alone tonight?” She wiped her hands on a white apron cinched over her pink jumper.
“I’m meeting up with my sister, but I don’t see her. How’ve you been?”
“Busy and tired.” Maddie shrugged. “I guess, same as usual. How ’bout you? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Animal, Diesel, and Shadow were here earlier for lunch.”
“I was working. Is our booth free?”
A grin spread across her full face. “I always save it for you guys, except Sundays. That’s the one day I hardly ever see any of you. Guess you’re all too busy sleeping off Saturday night.” She laughed, shaking her head.
“You got it,” he said.
Maddie plucked two menus from the shelf under the cash register and headed down the aisle, hips swaying to the beat of the overhead music.
Ruthie’s was a favorite stop for the Insurgents, and the last booth in the back was usually theirs. The bikers required seating that gave them a full view of the restaurant.
“I’ll bring you a cup of coffee and some fresh milk, huh?” Maddie said as Rags slid into the booth.
“You know me too well.” A smile brushed across his lips.
She grinned, setting the menus on the table. “Coffee coming right up.”
Maddie was one of the Insurgents’ favorite waitresses at the diner.
She joked around just enough, gave good service, never fawned, and minded her own business.
Her husband had walked out several years ago, leaving her to raise two teenagers on her own.
The brothers always tipped her well: part of it was out of respect, and part was their quiet way of showing they had her back.
Rags glanced toward the window and saw Clara hurrying across the parking lot, hair flying, that determined look on her face. He sighed, pushing the menu aside. When Clara had that look it usually meant she was about to give him a talking-to about something.
The bell over the door jingled a second later. Clara strode in, scanning the diner until her gaze landed on him.
She hurried down the aisle and slipped into the booth. “Have you been waiting long?” She tucked her shoulder bag next to her on the seat.
Rags leaned back, one arm draped over the booth. “Just got here a few minutes ago.”
Maddie set down a mug of coffee and a small pitcher of milk in front of him and smiled at Clara. “You want something to drink?”
Clara looked over. “Yeah. A chocolate milkshake with whipped cream … and sprinkles if you have them.”
Maddie laughed. “We have them.”
Rags smirked over the rim of his cup. “You still order it like you’re ten.”
“And you still act like you’re thirteen,” she shot back.
Maddie laughed as she jotted down the order. “One milkshake coming up.” She scurried behind the counter and snapped the order on the dolly.
Clara leaned back against the cushion. “So, how’ve you been?”
“Fine.”
“Are you following me, too, like Jeremy?”
“Jeremy’s following you?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on. I’ve seen Jeremy tailing me a couple of times now after I get off work. I’m sure you’re doing it, too.”
His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Have you seen me doing it?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. You know how to do it better than Jeremy. I want both of you to stop it. Now. Tell Mom and Dad to stop treating me like a child.”
“And this from a woman who just ordered a shake with fuckin’ sprinkles on it.” The side of his mouth hitched up.
“Stop it, this isn’t funny.” Clara’s voice wavered as she blinked rapidly.
“Come on, now. I was just teasing.” Rags reached over and patted her hand. “Sorry. We’re all worried about you, that’s all. You know what’s going on with this fuckin’ psycho. Before this shit started up, was Jeremy making sure you got home okay?”
“No.” Her voice was slightly louder than a whisper.
“Then… don’t overact to all this. Your car isn’t in the best shape, Mom and Dad are trying to let you grow but they’re scared to death of this bastard who’s preying on young women.
Look at it from their point of view. This is all temporary.
Don’t fret about it so much. Jeremy and I know you’re grown up. ”
“I wish I believed that.”
“Here you go,” Maddie said, placing a large frosty glass piled with whipped cream covered in sprinkles. “I’ll let you have some time to look at the menu. Enjoy.”
“Thanks,” Clara mumbled, staring at the glass.
“Go ahead and drink your shake. You know you can’t wait to dig in.” He nudged the glass closer to her. “So, is this what you wanted to talk about?”
Clara shook her head before putting a big spoonful of whipped cream in her mouth.
“Then what?”
She met his eyes. “Don’t blow my job by hitting on my boss.”
Rags jerked his head back. “What the fuck?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw the way you were looking at her when you came by the office a couple of days ago.” Clara put another large spoonful of whipped cream into her mouth.
“You’re crazy. I was looking for you and ended up going into her office.”
“I know you, Rags. You like pretty women—dark-haired, nice figure, sort of sassy. That’s Casey to a T.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t remember sharing ‘my type’ with you. And for your information, smartass, I don’t have a type.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Glad you’re here to inform me on that. Hell, I’d be lost without all your wisdom.”
“Rags, I’m serious.” She leaned in. “Leave her alone. You’ve got the club girls for whatever it is you do with them.”
A crease pinched the space between his brows. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“I’m not some sheltered little girl. I’m a woman. Anyway, I’m just saying besides those women at the club, there are plenty of ladies in town. Leave my boss alone.”
Clara grabbed the straw, took a long sip, and gave him a pointed look.
“Fuckin’ unbelievable,” he muttered, reaching for his coffee.
“Prove me wrong, then.” A bratty smile twitched on her lips, and she went back to her milkshake, clearly satisfied that she’d gotten the last word.
Rags stared into his cup for a long moment, the steam curling up between them. He’d be the last person to admit it, but Clara wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something about her know-it-all boss that intrigued him, pulled him in … and he didn’t like it one bit.
Casey had those curves that could make a man forget what he was saying, wild dark hair, and that smart-mouthed attitude he found way too damn refreshing.
What got to him most, though, was that she wasn’t taken in by his bad boy vibes the way other chicks always were.
He knew she was attracted to him; he caught her checking him out, heard that quick hitch of breath when he got too close.
But she never let it last, never gave him the satisfaction.
And somehow, that only drew him in deeper.
Rags took a slow drink, letting the bitterness bite at the back of his throat.
“You make too damn much out of nothing,” he said finally.
“Someone has to keep you in check.” Clara grinned and picked up the menu.
He shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. Typical Clara: stubborn, loyal, and sometimes right, though he’d die before saying it out loud.
An hour later, they finished their meal and easy talk about nothing in particular. When the plates were cleared, Rags tossed some bills on the table, enough to cover the check and a nice tip for Maddie.
Outside, night had settled in. The air carried a faint chill, and the sky stretched wide and black above them, scattered with pinpricks of starlight.
At Clara’s car, he nodded toward the door. “Text me when you get inside the house.”
“I will, and thanks,” she said, then stepped in and gave him a quick, tight hug that caught him off guard.
Rags waited until she got behind the wheel, then shoved his hands into his pockets, watching until her taillights disappeared down the street.
Leaves crunched under his boots as he walked toward his Harley. He settled onto the bike, the chrome glinting under the streetlight.
His thoughts drifted, uninvited, back to Casey.
He wondered what it would feel like to taste her lips, to feel her tits crushed against him with the scent of her perfume—a mix of warm vanilla and caramel—wrapping around him.
The memory of her eyes drifting over him as he stood in her office doorway tangled with the image of her writhing beneath him as he buried himself between her thighs.
Desire crackled inside him, and his jeans grew tight as his dick twitched.
He gripped the handlebars tighter, shaking his head as if to dispel any thoughts or images of her.
Drawing a deep breath, he started the engine, the low rumble breaking the quiet, as he rode off into the night.