Page 12 of Ball Buster

I’m only two pages in when there’s a knock on the driver’s side window. I glance over to Solo staring at me with an amused grin on his face.

He opens my door slightly which also bugs me.

“No loitering.”

“I wasn’t. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing out here.”

“Read the sign.” He points to a small sign that’s posted on the dumpster at the far end of the parking lot.

“Is it really loitering though if I own half the bar?”

“You planning to come inside or you going to sit out here like a stalker?”

“Do you get a lot of stalkers?” I shove my book in my purse before he reads the title. Last thing I want him to do is see Lady & The Biker and think I’m reading it because of him.

“On occasion.”

“Like your friend from last night,” the words tumble out before I can process that I’m speaking them aloud.

“Which one? Though I’m touched you care. Thought I felt someone staring at me through the window.”

“Okay let’s get this straight. I do not care, and I wasn’t staring. It was kind of hard to miss your hands on her ass when I was getting in my car.” He knows I saw them. Asshole.

“It’s okay if you like to watch. Next time let me know ahead of time so I can make it worth your while.”

“There’s something wrong with you.” I glare at him as he opens the door wider for me to get out. “Why do you open at ten if no one is here. Isn’t that like a waste of time and money?”

“Running a bar is more than slinging drinks. Got a payroll to take care of. Orders to make and sign off on. Shitters to clean. Place doesn’t operate itself completely.”

“Noted.”

When I exit my car, he does a double take. Now that I know I don’t exactly need to make a good impression and what type of place The Brew is I’m dressed appropriately in a scoop neck black tank top and my distressed denim shorts I made myself. Kick ass snakeskin slingback sandals and I styled my hair in a side braid while it was still damp. When I take it out later my hair will have gorgeous beach inspired waves.

“You look…” He pinches lips between his fingers, gaze traveling up and down my legs.

“I look what?” I’m waiting for it to come. An insult or crude remark to embarrass me or make me uncomfortable.

“Different.”

“Different how? Good different or bad different?”

“Was classy yesterday. Today you’re biker babe material. Suits you better than the skirt.”

“Thanks. I think. Now that we’ve established you approve of my choice in fashion, can we go inside our establishment and come up with a game plan so that we’re no longer bleeding money?”

“Wasting no time. Ready to get right to it.”

“That’s right. The bar is mine as much as it is yours. You stating the place bleeds money concerns me being as I basically quit my job and gave up my apartment therefore breaking my lease and costing me my savings to be involved in this.”

“Fucking hell. You said you’d consider selling. Babe, not sure if you’re aware but we don’t get along.”

“That’s because you’re a conceited asshole who thinks he’s the big guy upstairs’ gift to the female sex.”

“Ouch. Tell me what you really think of me.”

“I just did and while we are on the subject of what I think I’d rather much appreciate if you stopped referring to me as babe. It’s degrading and gross. I’m your equal here and all things considering our relationship its wrong.”

“And what the hell do you think our relationship is? Please enlighten me since you seem to know it all.” He stomps toward the bar and keep pace with him.

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