Page 2 of Ball Buster

“Sure thing.” I turn on my heels back toward the door and gulp. What am I doing locking myself up in a bar with a stranger hottie I know absolutely nothing about? I mean yeah, my sperm donor was business partners with him, but given his history I’m not sure he was a great judge of character. This guy could be a serial killer for all I know. I’ll be quick. Do a fast tour of the place and get the heck out of here and come back when there are customers present.

I’m sure I’m being silly and have watched one too many creepy movies. A girl can never be too careful though. Not in this day and age. Every day there’s some terrible story making the national headlines. Nowhere seems safe. I turn the lock and when I glance back Solo has disappeared.

The bar area itself isn’t terrible but the barstools are ripped, and the overall look of the place says we serve roadkill. I don’t see menus or prices listed anywhere. How do people know what to order or how much the drinks are? At least the pool tables seem to be in decent shape other than it appears someone got pissed off and kicked a hole in the bottom of the end of one. I guess that’s to be expected in a biker bar. I’m assuming that’s what this place is. Off to the side is a small stage and I blink. You’ve got to be kidding me. No way is that a freaking stripper pole.

Okay definitely not a place any families will stop off for a bite to eat.

With this confirmed I do a quick peek at the bathrooms. Both single stalls with a sink and a mirror. Not good if you’re having a busy night.

There’s a small kitchen with the basics. A stove, fridge, sink, deep fryer, and a grill. All appear in decent shape. There’s a small utility closet with cleaning supplies. Four other doors. One is to the back exit, one labeled office that’s locked, a store room, and another I’m guessing leads to the basement where Solo is.

I don’t know if I want to follow him into what could be his creepy but hot guy murder lair or help myself to a drink and wait for him at the bar. I stare at the door and think about my heels and how knowing my luck I’ll probably trip or something. Drink at the bar it is.

I move behind the bar and stare at the liquor bottles finding what I want. Jack Daniels. The glasses are cleaner than I expected. I don’t even see any water spots. Interesting. Two shots of Jack and four shots of Coke. I’m no bartender but I’ve watched the guys do it at the restaurant where I served tables enough to know the easy stuff.

Taking a sip of my drink I move to the other side and park my butt on a stool. I glance around at the different signs. Mostly beer brands, car logos, gas stations, garage type stuff, and of course Harley Davidson.

A picture mounted over a table against the wall catches my eye.Turn The PagebyBob Segerplays as I approach. One of the only memories I have of my father hits me square in the chest. Him in the garage working on his truck and Bob playing. A weird wave of nostalgia grips me. This melancholy sensation wraps hold of me as I stare at the photo. I know it’s my father. He looks young here. He’s got his arm around a woman with dark hair and there’s boy standing in front of them. My heart clenches. I know those eyes. I just had them staring me down moments ago. I gulp as a tear streaks down my cheek.

Is Solo my brother? What the fuck? Why didn’t he say anything?

“Finding everything okay?” his gritty voice sounds in my ear and that stupid tingle down my spine returns.

I want to throw up at my response to him.

The scent of his cologne hits me. Woodsy with a hint of spice.

I swipe a finger under my eye before turning to face him. “Yup.”

“You ready to go?”

“Sure. You can write down the address. I’m sure I can find my way.”

His gaze drops to my drink. “That’ll be three fifty.”

“What?”

“The drink. Three fifty, babe.”

Gross. Who calls their half-sister babe? What a creep. “Whatever,” I mutter. I’m ready to get out of here. Being here makes my skin crawl. I place the drink on a table and dig into my purse for my debit card.

“I’ll need cash. Not open on Sunday, remember?”

“Well, I’m good for it. I’ll pay you tomorrow if that’s cool.”

“Sure thing.”

“Is there a restaurant nearby?”

“Pizza Palace is good or the Dairy Bar in town.”

“Which is closer to Les’s place?”

“I could go for some pizza.”

“Okayyy…” I drag the word out. I wasn’t inviting him, but I guess we need to get to know each other a little better. I mean it isn’t his fault my father ran out on me but had no problem raising his son apparently.

“Just gotta lock up. You can follow me.”

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