Chapter Eight
“There’re a lot of hot guys here tonight,” Zoe said, bringing a margarita to her lips.
Casey smiled and stirred her vodka martini. “Is there someone in particular you’re hoping will stop by the table?”
“There are too many to count.” Zoe sighed. “Maybe if I have a few more of these”—she swirled her empty glass around—“I’ll have the courage to talk to one. I swear, I’m destined to be alone.”
“Relax. We’ve only been here for a little while. Once the music starts, one of these hot guys will probably whisk you onto the dance floor. Just don’t fall in love before the song’s over.”
“Who me?” Zoe widened her eyes in mock surprise.
“Yes, you.” Casey laughed and shook her head.
She and Zoe met at a wine-tasting a little over a year ago and had hit it off immediately. Between their love of history and old buildings, they became fast friends. Ever since, Casey had been the amateur psychologist Zoe called every time another “this is it” relationship crashed and burned.
“You need another round?” the blonde waitress asked, picking up Casey’s empty glass.
Pointing at Zoe, Casey said, “She does, but I’m good.”
“Gotcha.” The waitress smiled and hurried away.
“You’re not going to sip that all night, are you?” Zoe asked.
“I’m pacing myself. Remember, I’m the one driving.”
“I’m glad you are,” Zoe said, leaning back. “Now I can have fun and not worry about a thing.” Her gaze slid toward a man in snug jeans and a leather jacket. “That’s who I’d like to get to know.”
Casey looked over at the guy walking by their table and shrugged. “He’s a biker for sure. He’d be easy to get but damn hard to keep.”
“How can you tell he’s a biker?” Zoe asked, her eyes still trained on the man as he went toward the restrooms.
“The jacket, the jeans, the chains, the swagger. That swagger can be infuriating.” And damn sexy. Casey groaned inward.
“I wonder if he’s one of those Insurgents.”
“The what?”
“The motorcycle club. They’ve been in Pinewood Springs forever.”
“Are they one-percenters?”
Zoe tilted her head to the side, her eyes slightly unfocused. “Huh?’
“An outlaw club. You know like the Hell’s Angels.”
“Here you go.” The waitress placed a margarita in front of Zoe. “I’ll be back around in a bit.” She walked away.
“I don’t know anything about all that. I just know they’re badass, scary, and really handsome. Do you think that guy’s one of them?” Zoe sipped her drink.
“He has the earmarks of it. Maybe you should aim for someone tamer.” Casey glanced around and noticed several guys in leather jackets and cuts. “This isn’t a biker bar, is it? If it is I’m out of here.”
Zoe giggled. “No way. Blue’s Belly is cool, and the people who hang here are okay for the most part. But biker bars? Never again. I stumbled into one once with some friends. We thought it would be an adventure. We lasted less than ten minutes before we hightailed it out of there.”
“Outlaw clubs can be intense,” Casey said. “Regular bikers are fine, but outlaws? Yeah, you don’t want to be in one of their bars.”
Zoe tilted her head. “How come you know so much about bikers?”
“When I’m good and drunk one of these days, I’ll tell you.” Casey picked up her drink and drained it.
“I’d like to buy you a drink,” a deep voice said next to Casey’s ear.
She looked up into deep-set brown eyes set beneath a strong brow, stubble shadowing a rounded jawline. Zoe’s pointed-toe shoe nudged her under the table.
“She was just waiting for the waitress,” Zoe said.
“Perfect,” he said, pulling into the empty chair beside Casey. “May I?”
Before she could answer, Zoe quipped, “Of course.”
A few minutes later, Casey had another martini in front of her, and a man named Nathan in full monologue mode.
He bragged about everything he’d done, was doing, and planned to do in his life.
Zoe laughed and egged him on; Casey kept sipping her drink, silently betting how long it’d take him to run out of breath.
Then she felt it. Someone was watching her. She couldn’t detect a prickling sensation in her nerves, nor were the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. No, she just knew.
“Are you okay? It seems like you’re zoning out on me.” Nathan laughed.
“Casey, Nathan’s asking if you’re doing okay. Are you?” Zoe nudged her again, only harder.
She shifted to the side and crossed her legs. “I guess I’m drinking too fast.”
“That’s okay. I’m here to hold you up if you need it.” Again, he laughed, this time too loud, like he was trying hard to have a good time.
“I’ll remember that.” A half smile tugged on the corner of her lip.
Zoe turned to Nathan and patted his forearm. “Tell us all about how you went skydiving and what it felt like to hit the ground. I could never imagine doing that. I remember seeing a show…”
Casey casually rotated her chair to the side and looked over her shoulder.
A gasp slipped through her lips when she saw him leaning against the bar, his stare locked on hers.
Swallowing, she looked away, then back at him, at all of him, and her breath hitched.
His jeans clung to long legs, and the dark gray T-shirt did little to hide a strong chest, a flat abdomen, and sinewy arms. A wallet chain glinted under the lights.
Chase Kendricks. He looked like sin, dripping with all that raw sexuality.
A jolt of attraction ripped through her.
Casey raised her dark eyes and met his bold gaze. Her mind went blank. It took a moment for her to register the angles of his face, the defined cut of his jaw, and the hard planes of his cheeks. Then, a pulse beat a panicked rhythm in her throat and she looked away.
“Let’s dance,” Nathan said, pushing away from the table.
“He’s asking you,” Zoe said.
“What? Oh, okay. Yeah…sure, let’s dance.” She jumped up and took Nathan’s hand. Anything to get her mind off of Chase Kendricks and to regain her equilibrium.
On the dance floor the crowd line danced to a cover of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.
” Casey began moving to the beat when Nathan grabbed her hand, pulled her into his arms, and began dancing the two-step.
Before she could protest, he was twirling her around and under his arm, then crushing her back to him.
His hand rested on her hip as they circled the dance floor under the low-slung colored lights.
Casey didn’t like the way his fingers dug into her leather skirt and began a slow descent toward her behind. She pulled back a little. Nathan leaned close to her ear and said, “You’re trying to lead.”
“I don’t like dancing this close.”
He laughed and pulled back then twirled her around several times.
The room spun too fast around her, and she wished she wouldn’t have had the second martini.
Glancing around the crowd, she spotted Zoe with her head on the shoulder of a preppy-looking man.
Casey smiled when she saw her friend’s dreamy-eyed look.
“I like dancing with you,” Nathan said, as he crushed her again against his chest. His hand now slipped down to her behind, and he copped a feel as he whirled her around the floor.
“Move your hand.” Casey tried to squirm out of his grasp.
“Relax. Feel the music.” His lips brushed against her ear as he squeezed one of her buttocks.
She stiffened, tried to twist away, but he only tightened his grip. A hot wave of dizziness crashed over her as panic began to set in. Just as she drew a breath to knee him, he was suddenly gone.
She turned, startled, and there he was—Chase Kendricks.
“He won’t bother you again,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I took care of it.” A faint smile crossed his lips.
“I didn’t ask you to, but… thanks.”
“You look like you need to sit down.”
She nodded, as beads of perspiration trickled down her back. He guided her back to the table, his hand steady on her arm. Sitting down, Casey took several deep breaths.
“Are you feeling better?” The husky timbre of his voice was a seductive whisper, strong enough to cut through the noise in the bar, yet soft enough to draw her in. He sat down next to her.
“Yes, much better,” she said, trying to sound composed. She played with the straw in her empty glass. Chase Kendricks unnerved her. Sitting this close to him made her feel things she didn’t want to. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
“No worries. I saw the way that asshole was acting.”
“Do you know him?”
He jerked his head back. “No fuckin’ way. Guy’s a wimp-ass. Why’d you dance with him?”
“Because this is a bar with a dance floor.”
“You like being a smartass, don’t you?” His deep laugh washed over her and sent shivers skating across her skin.
Zoe stumbled back to the table with the preppy-looking guy, laughing. Grateful for the distraction, Casey turned her attention to her friend.
“The band’s good, don’t you think?” From the corner of her eye, she saw him staring at her with that steady, unflinching look that made her pulse jump even as she tried to ignore it.
“They’re awesome. I bet they’re from Denver.” Zoe plopped down on the chair and picked up her empty glass. Turning her head around, she said, “Where’s the waitress?”
“I’ll get you a drink,” the preppy guy said. He looked over at Casey. “Do you want something?”
“I’ll get her a drink,” Chase said, his tone cutting like ice. “You just focus on your girl.”
Mr. Preppy blanched for a second then walked away.
“You didn’t have to be rude,” Casey said, turning to look at him.
“I wasn’t. I was telling it like it is. He’s with a chick”—he pointed at Zoe—“so he needs to pay attention to her and not you when you got me next to you. He caught on.”
“Who are you?” Zoe said, pointing a long ice blue fingernail at him.
Chase didn’t answer, his gaze was back on Casey, deliberate and hot.
“Weren’t you dancing with Nathan?” Zoe asked Casey.
“He had to leave,” Chase said, his focus still on Casey.
He leaned one hand against the back of Casey’s chair. His gaze held hers—hazel, deep and molten, the brown warm as whiskey and the green sharp as temptation.