Chapter One #2
Roxie Cannon, fifth wheel.
She plopped her drink onto the bar, not caring when it spilled over the edge into a sloppy puddle. Hopping down, she headed back to the kitchen, her heels clicking fast. Teeny weenies weren’t what she needed, but they’d have to do.
Because she certainly wasn’t going to take Whitey up on his offer.
* * * * *
Nobody noticed when the new guy walked into the bar—nobody but the biker babes scattered throughout.
Like bees scenting nectar, they started noticing him one by one.
He was dressed like any of the other bikers in jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket, but one thing stood out.
The guy was freaking gorgeous. Tall and rangy, but built, with an almost baby face and shaggy brown hair that screamed for a woman’s fingers to run through it.
Combine that with the bad boy vibe he gave off and mouths were salivating.
He stood just inside the room looking around for someone, and women started arching their backs and sticking out their butts. Their blatant come-ons were ignored. Either the guy didn’t notice, or he was used to it.
Finally, he spotted whomever he was looking for.
The look on his face turned determined and he started across the room.
One look and Old Martha sat down on her chair with a thump.
Not only did the dude look good, he moved like a bad girl’s wet dream.
He had the kind of swagger that was easygoing but not showy.
It was a natural kind of athletic grace—the kind that couldn’t be faked, but made a woman wonder how he moved in bed.
Soon his destination became clear. His shoulders squared and he reached out to run a knuckle down the arm of a dark-haired woman.
It was an intimate touch, not blatant but definitely personal.
The woman turned quickly to see who was trying to get her attention, and her head tilted back as she looked up, up, and up.
“Hey, babe.”
Lexie Underhill’s lips parted, and she let out a puff of air. The resistance in her muscles softened and the confusion on her face turned to wonder. Instead of protesting, she just stared.
The man looked down at her and his sly grin faded. “Roxie?”
“Oh.” Lexie continued staring at the man in awe. Self-conscious, she pushed her hair over her shoulder. “She’s over there somewhere.”
This time it was the new guy’s turn to look confused.
She smiled and waved absently in another direction. “Somewhere over… Oh, I don’t know.”
“Okay… My mistake.” The heartthrob backed away a step, looking at her as if she were playing with him. When she didn’t give up the game, he shook his head. His expression was one of clear befuddlement. She continued looking at him all moony-eyed, and he backed off further.
That put him up against someone else. They bumped into each other, back against back.
“Sorry,” the man muttered. He turned to apologize, but his confidence returned when he spotted whom he’d bumped into. Recognizing the long dark hair and sleek build, he caught the sexy woman by the waist and moved closer. “There you are.”
Maxie Miller’s back stiffened at the feel of hands on her.
In front of her, her boyfriend straightened as if a chiropractor had just given him an adjustment.
She turned on a dime, lifting her arms to push away whomever had grabbed her.
When she got a look at the stranger holding her, though, she gave a visible shiver.
Her jaw dropped and her hands relaxed against his chest.
“Wow.” Her whole body melted like an ice cream cone under a hot sun.
“Wow, yourself.” With a wicked grin, the handsome visitor dropped his head. He tightened his grip on her waist as he pulled her in, but she let out a squeak when she realized he was going to kiss her. The sound made him pause, but then something flashed in his peripheral vision.
Knuckles. A fist. Flying dark hair.
His reflexes saved him.
Pulling back with a jerk, he narrowly avoided the punch.
When he yanked his hands away from Maxie, she slumped and nearly fell to the floor. He didn’t stop to catch her, because the whirring avenger was coming at him—only it wasn’t the big blond dude she seemed to be with. “Hey!” he yelled as he ducked to protect himself.
The direction of the flying fist changed, hitching to a stop midair. “Oh, my God!”
Momentum already had the man in its grip.
He stepped back to brace himself but tripped when another biker’s boot got in his way.
He tried to stop himself from going down, but it was too late.
In slow motion, all six feet three inches of him tumbled backwards.
Once he realized there was no saving himself, he maneuvered so he took the brunt of the fall on his hind end. Over in the corner, Old Martha winced.
Such a fine heinie it was.
In the end, lover boy landed flat on his back in a position most of the women in the bar had dreamed about. But it was a time for fighting, not for loving. His hands were lifted, ready for a continued attack, and his green eyes were sharp as he evaluated the people who hovered over him.
The crowd that bunched around him wasn’t what he expected.
He was used to greasers and tough guys, but the people who surrounded him were different. These weren’t bikers. They didn’t dress the part and they were too… East Side. These were strangers. Except that three of them didn’t look like strangers. His brow furrowed.
Three of the women who watched him so raptly looked like clones of each other.
Clones of Roxie, a one-in-a-million.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
The one he’d spoken to first knelt down beside him. “Are you all right?”
“Did you hurt yourself?” That was another one of the clones, the one he’d tried to kiss.
“I… I’m sorry,” a raspy voice said.
His gaze zeroed in on the third, the one who’d gone pale as a sheet.
Her hair was curling wildly around her shoulders, and her hands were fisted at her sides. Most telling, though, was her right foot. It was cocked back on the impossibly high heel of a leather boot.
Roxie.
Their gazes locked and the air between them started vibrating. The jolt of it ran through the bar, and people turned to watch.
The man on the floor barely noticed when an intense dark-haired man pulled the kneeling copy of Roxie to her feet. He tucked her close against his side and practically snarled, “Keep your hands to yourself, buddy.”
The biker’s jaw locked and some of his cockiness returned. “Looks like there’s enough to go around.”
And what the hell was that about? His eyes narrowed as he evaluated the women. They looked too much like each other to be true. “What’s going on here?”
“That’s what I’d like you to tell me.” That big blond guy moved into his line of vision again.
He didn’t look happy either. The back of his shirt fluttered as he moved, and from his position on the floor, the visitor saw the butt of a gun.
He stiffened, but quickly recognized how the guy handled himself.
A cop. “Why don’t you and I step outside? ” Mr. Law Enforcement said.
“Fuck that.” The man sat up and draped his arms over his bent knees. It was clear he’d had enough. “Since when is it a crime to try to kiss your wife?”
“Wife?” The two copies of Roxie snapped upright in attention. They’d spoken as one.
As if a wave of pressure swept through the room, the group pulled back. Attention swung to Roxie and, this time, she was the one who stutter-stepped backwards.
Only one person moved forward, and it was a huge mountain of a man.
He pushed his way through the crowd, searching for the source of the commotion.
The muscles in his arms flexed as he prepared to take care of business, but his chin jerked up in surprise when he saw the man sitting on the ground. “Billy! Hey, man.”
“Skeeter,” the guy said in return. He lifted a hand for a little help, and the bouncer hauled him to his feet.
“You made it,” Skeeter said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Welcome back.”
“It’s good to be back.” The guy watched the group around him as suspiciously as they watched him. “Or it was until I nearly got punched.”
Roxie’s pretty face turned ashen. “I said I was sorry. I just saw someone making a move on my sister, and it wasn’t her boyfriend.”
One key word in that sentence caught the visitor’s attention. “Sister?”
Roxie started blinking fast.
“Oh, hey. That’s right,” Skeeter crowed. “You probably haven’t heard the news.”
The bouncer wrapped his beefy arm around the man’s shoulders and gestured to the tightly pressed crowd. “These are Roxie’s sisters. That’s Lexie, and this one here is Maxie.”
The man’s green eyes blinked in stunned fascination, but his gaze eventually swung back to Roxie’s.
And locked tight.
The air pulsed with weight this time, and Roxie took a shuddering breath.
“Heads up, everyone,” Skeeter said loudly. “This is Billy. Billy Cannon, Roxie’s hubby.”