Page 3 of Burly Biker of Misty Mountain

Then she disappeared into the restroom, and I sagged in my seat with relief.

“Hey there.”

A man slid into Bristol’s empty seat, with lank hair that had a greasy sheen to it. His bloodshot eyes held a manic gleam as he stared at my cleavage. I crossed my arms, feeling prickly and exposed, even though the neckline of my blouse wasn’t revealing. Hiding the fact that I was a big-chested girl was impossible.

“You looked like you could use some company,” the man continued.

I gripped my purse as I glanced toward the restroom, willing Bristol to return.

“I'm waiting on a friend,” I replied. “I’m not alone.”

The man smiled.

“I saw you two girls come in. I’d be happy to entertain both of you for the evening.”

Uneasiness slithered up my spine. My gaze darted to the bar where Hank was wiping down glasses, but his back faced me. I couldn’t get his attention.

To my surprise, the biker rose from his bar stool and grabbed a chair, dragging it across the room with the scrape of wood against wood. Then he set his chair at the end of my table and straddled it, fixing the creep with a steady look.

“Is this asshole giving you trouble, dove?”

The creep’s smile dropped instantly and he bristled.

“Who the hell are you?”

“My boyfriend,” I blurted, without thinking. It just rolled off my tongue.

The biker didn’t even hesitate, playing along.

“And I don’t like to share.”

“She never said she was spoken for,” the creep replied, sullen.

A muscle twitched in the biker’s jaw. He propped his forearms across the back of his chair.

“She never invited you over here either.”

The creep huffed. A beat of silence lingered in the air.

“That meansget lost,dumbass,” the biker growled. “Do I need to start breaking bones to get it through your thick skull that you’re not welcome?”

The creep glared at me and slid out of his seat, moving two tables down.

“You all right?” the biker asked softly.

I nodded, but I couldn’t find my voice to reply.

“Take a deep breath for me, yeah?” he added. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

I inhaled a shuddering breath and let it out.

“That’s better,” the biker said. “I’ll be at the bar if you need me. Just say the word.”

“No—wait.” I flung my hand out and gripped his forearm. Muscles flexed beneath my fingertips. Warm skin. Dark ink. I snatched my hand back as if I’d been burned, curling my nails into my palms at the memory of his scorching heat. “Can you…?”

I glanced at the creep, sulking at his table. Would he move in again when the biker left? And what the hell was taking Bristol so long?

“Can you stay for a little while?” I asked. “Just until my friend gets back.”

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