Page 9 of Under the Influence

I’ve always kept tabs on the Earlham-Sheerer-Bayer-Mooney-Mercer family especially when they hit up locations near the border of their territory and mine. One such place is Rock Hard Bar & Grill. The trendy spot is popular with middle-manager types. I’ve had a few dates there over the years. Rock Hard feels fancier than it is, and the rumor mill claims Edith hits up the place on a regular basis.

Last night, I found myself riding past and hoping to see her SUV. I told myself I was acting like a little bitch and needed to give up this chase.

Despite my self-lecture, I ride past the bar again tonight. I swear I won’t go inside if I spot her SUV. Except the second I notice the vehicle with its distinctive “Nurture Nature” bumper sticker, I pull into the parking lot.

I’m off my bike and at the front door before my brain clicks on.What the fuck do I think is about to happen?

My feet glue themselves to the bar’s entrance. People walk past me. I consider the logical reasons to turn my ass around and get going.

Edith Mooney isnota woman I can romance. There’s no enjoying her company for an allotted time and walking away without stirring up a hornet’s nest. This woman is about to become my in-law. I’ll see her at family functions, and the Bayer-Mooney-Mercer-Sheerer-Earlham clan seems to always be together. Instead of Lola’s dad or a friend of the club, I’ll become Edith’s asshole ex-boyfriend.

I’m halfway back to my ride when Edith’s face flashes in my mind. Back at the engagement party, I’d become intoxicated by her shiny blue eyes and full pink lips. I haven’t stopped thinking about her. Now, she’s inside, and I’m dying to get a peek.

Back at the entrance, I tell myself I’ll only walk inside and order a drink. If Edith is with someone—her family, a friend, a date—I won’t engage. If she’s alone, well, that’ll be more difficult to walk away from, but I’m well-known for my self-control.

Rock Hard Bar & Grill is seventy-five percent filled when I enter. I circle the place twice before I spot Edith alone at the bar. A pale blue baseball cap covers her long, smooth hair. My dick twitches at the memory of how sweet and clean she smelled at the party.

Once I catch sight of Edith alone, my plan to walk away is instantly gone. I decide she shouldn’t be alone in a bar filled with horny guys. Taking the seat next to hers will scare them away. I’m doing her a favor.

Edith glances at me, flashing a dirty look. I see the exact moment when she realizes I’m not one of the guys giving her “fuck me” eyes around the bar. Her hand quickly reaches up and tugs off the cap.

“Is something wrong?” Edith asks as she smooths out her silky hair.

“No, I come in here a lot.”

“So do I. That’s probably why I see you all the time.”

Ordering a beer, I smile at how Edith pokes at me like I can do nothing right. I look around the bar before focusing on the beauty at my side.

As soon as my gaze meets hers, Edith’s venomous nature clicks off. She stares into my eyes as if she can’t look away.

“Do you really come in here a lot?” I ask as I nurse my longneck and enjoy the view.

“Yes.”

“By yourself?”

“Usually, yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m hot to trot.”

I grin at her snide tone, even as her gaze drinks me in. “Are you packing protection?”

Edith’s gaze widens, and I know for a fucking fact her brain just went to sex. I hold her gaze and wait for her to understand. When she does, Edith rolls her eyes like I’m messing with her.

“I have weapons. My pa was a cop before he embraced his wild side,” she says and sips her daiquiri. Her gaze remains locked on me as she adds, “Plus, like my ma, I carry around two impressive guns.”

Edith tugs up her sleeve to show off her toned bicep. For a moment, her no-nonsense armor drops. I witness the sweet young woman who loves her parents, fruity cocktails, and Mother Earth.

I let my fingers slide across her bicep as if testing out her strength. Edith's gaze tells me she knows I’m feeling her up. We share a grin as I rest my hands flat on the bar top.

“Why are you out tonight?” Edith asks in a tender voice I could easily become addicted to hearing.

“I get restless at home.”

“Why?”

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