Chapter 1 #2
Carmy hadn’t come to wish me a happy birthday. He was there to do what he always did, which was to remind the Stallions—and me—I wasn’t another pretty face. I was the little sister to one of their rivals, which made me off limits.
Seriously, he was the biggest cock-block ever.
I hadn’t exactly been celibate for the last three years, but I sure as hell was single, and I felt it was totally within my rights to claim Carmine Gibbs was part of the problem.
I had a type. Coincidentally, the men I was most attracted to were the kinds of men who came from the world to which Carmy introduced me.
I liked them big, kind of scary, tatted, hot, and rough around the edges.
They say women are often drawn to men like their fathers, but mine died when I was eight, and the male guardian I was left with wasn’t one I particularly liked.
Except, it didn’t matter because I had Carmy.
My big brother. My protector. My best friend.
He’s who taught me what to look for in a man, which turned out to be a huge ironic joke I found not the least bit humorous.
Since I moved home, I tried to make it work with a couple of guys not of the biker variety.
Carmy didn’t seem to care if I spent my time with a man who rode around town in a dually or a muscle car—but, as it turned out, I did.
Things usually fizzled out after a few weeks, when they realized I wasn’t the girl next door but a rebel in sheep’s clothing.
I wasn’t a sweetheart who wanted to spend Sunday afternoons hanging out with his mom.
I couldn’t be forced into that box no matter how hard I tried.
I liked my men wild because I was wild, and I didn’t want to be tamed. Not by anyone. Least of all by Carmy.
When I didn’t leave to go fetch his drink, he cut his eyes at me and raised his brows, silently expressing his impatience. It took everything in me not to huff and stomp my foot like a child—but I did roll my eyes as I finally put one foot in front of the other and took my ass to the bar.
Our resident old man tossed a towel over his broad shoulder as he watched me approach.
Viv didn’t employ any of Nighthawk’s Stallions, save one—Rusty.
He was only fifty-six, but he reminded me of a grumpy Santa, except his hair was a reddish-brown rather than white, and he was bulky with muscles and covered in tattoos.
But there was something about his laugh.
Jolly was about the only word I could use to describe it.
He wasn’t cheery by nature, but when he thought something was funny, he could have the whole restaurant laughing right along with him.
Given the expression he currently wore, I suspected jolly wasn’t how he felt about seeing my brother across the room.
“He here givin’ you trouble?” he grumbled.
“It’s what he does.”
“Let me guess. He wants a coke.”
I fought a smile and offered him a single nod. While I hated the way my brother acted every time he came around, it felt nice knowing the real reason the Stallions clan didn’t like him coming in wasn’t strictly on account of the kutte he wore, but because of how he treated me.
In Missoula, I wasn’t a club slut.
I was one of Viv’s girls.
If I was honest, the difference was probably only a byproduct of being Carmy’s baby sister. Some days I couldn’t say which I preferred—but most of the time, I didn’t regret moving home.
“Don’t care if a fountain drink is only a buck-fifty,” muttered Rusty, handing me the fizzy beverage. “He pays this time.”
I took the coke, but as I made my way back toward Carmy, I knew he wouldn’t pay. He never did.
When I delivered his drink, I didn’t bother asking if he wanted anything else, certain I already knew the answer.
Sure enough, he didn’t stop me when I went to help clear a few of the tables left after the lunch rush.
He sat alone in the booth for ten minutes.
I went to the kitchen for two, and when I came back, he was gone.
My eyes looked directly to the window, and I saw it as he mounted his hog.
I shouldn’t have been disappointed. I knew better.
Still, my heart sank as I watched him ride off the diner’s lot.
I returned to his table and found two dollars underneath his empty cup.
Happy birthday to me, I thought, shoving the cash into my apron.
“You okay?” asked Maxine gently, sneaking up beside me.
I glanced out the window, to the empty stall Carmy left behind.
I couldn’t say why, but memories of my twenty-first birthday suddenly rushed to the forefront of my mind.
He’d purchased his first motorcycle a couple of months prior and was gaining the confidence to ride it anywhere he wanted to go.
For my birthday, he finally let me climb on and took me for a ride.
I was never going to forget that day.
A year later, he was a probie with the Copper Kings.
A year after that—he was one of them.
If I really stopped to think about it, it pissed me off how he thought it was all fine and good for him to live the life he wanted while I wasn’t free to do the same.
But I was thirty-freaking-years old, and he could threaten me all he wanted, but he couldn’t stop me from having a good time.
Sure, if he found out, we’d likely fight about it—but that had become the norm.
In time, I was sure it wouldn’t hurt so much.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
Wishing to shove aside all thoughts of Carmy, I forced a smile, looked at Max and asked, “So, what are we getting up to tonight?”
She grinned, squealed, and clung to my arm with both hands. “It’s going to be wild!”
“Sounds perfect.”