Most women who wander into a biker bar by accident either scurry back out or try too hard to prove they belong. Not her.
She walked straight up, chin high, and asked for work.
Like she owned the place.
And for one long second, I let myself imagine what it’d feel like to have a woman like that under me, wild and sweet and snapping back with fire. Then I locked it down and nodded over to Dena that it was cool o put her behind the bar.
If she couldn’t hold her own, she’d be gone by closing.
But she held her own.
Even when Maddox knocked over a pitcher of beer and Boomer tried to flirt with her in his usual dumbass way, she didn’t flinch. She was fast, sharp with her tongue, and didn’t fall for anyone’s charm—including mine.
That made me look twice.
Just a girl who showed up in a beat-up sedan with South Carolina plates and too much baggage in her eyes.
And yet she worked like someone with something to prove.
By the time last call hit, she’d already cleaned the taps, sorted the tip jar, and told Nash he was cut off without blinking. I didn’t know if I wanted to kiss her or promote her.
She was the kind of woman you noticed.
I leaned against the bar, arms crossed, watching her from beneath the brim of my cap. Riley moved like she had something to prove, like every wiped counter and every poured beer was a silent challenge to anyone doubting her place here. And damn if I wasn’t one of them.
She didn’t notice me at first. Too busy making sure she wasn’t messing up, too focused on impressing Hawk, and keeping the customers happy. But I noticed her. I noticed the fire in her eyes and the stubborn set of her jaw. The girl didn’t scare easy, and in a place like this, that mattered.
After about an hour, she looked up and caught me watching. Her gaze didn’t waver. Bold. Defiant. Curious.
She walked right up to me, drying her hands on a bar towel, and stopped in front of me. “You the one in charge around here?”
I raised a brow. “You asking because you want to complain, or because you’re trying to flirt?”
She smirked. “Maybe both.”
I chuckled, the sound low in my chest. “My MC name’s Rogue.”
“Fitting,” she said, glancing at my leather cut. “And I’m Riley. Guess you already knew that.”
I gave a slow nod. “You’re not bad for your first day.”
“Not bad?” she challenged, resting her hip against the bar. “That the highest praise I’m gonna get?”
I leaned in a little. “Keep working like that, I might just keep you around.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the small smile that tugged at her lips before she turned away and got back to work. Yeah… this one was different.
And I was already in trouble.
3
RILEY
The Fire Skulls bar smelled like spilled beer, hot leather, and something electric I couldn’t name. I’d been here almost four days.
I was elbow-deep in cold bottles of Coors, my knees on the sticky bar mat as I loaded the bottom shelf of the cooler. The air conditioner was broken again, sweat sticking my tank top to my back, and I was cursing under my breath when I heard boots behind me.
Heavy. Confident.Rogue.