Page 23 of Ridin' True
Itwasnearlyeightwhen he checked his phone again and found no return text from Alexia. They exchanged a volley of messages earlier, but then she’d gone silent after six o’clock. While their back and forth was strictly professional, he liked that this mode of communication had been opened. He preferred a phone call to a text—but a text felt like a gateway to something a little less professional and a bit more personal.
And he still had every intention of exploring somethingpersonalwith Alexia Torres.
It had been a long time since he met a woman he couldn’t get off his mind. He’d been faithful to Nicole for nearly a decade. After they split, commitment was the last thing on his mind. Given the patches he wore on his back, he never had any trouble finding a willing pussy to wet his dick, but he hadn’t wanted anything serious until recently.
For a short while, the desire messed with his head. He wondered if, for once in his life, hewasjealous of Nicole and her pending marriage. In the end, he realized it had less to do with what she had and more to do with the kind of life he wanted to live.
He was going to be forty before the year was over, and he was tired of playing games and chasing an easy lay. If he was going to have a woman in his life, he wanted her to be well worth the effort.
Mustang had found Tess.
Maverick had found Jenna.
They were his proof it wasn’t impossible.
He was also well aware of his responsibility as a father to be mindful of who he invited into his life. Having a daughter of his own meant whoever he brought around needed to be a solid example of the kind of woman he hoped his Marlowe could be one day. None of the sheep who hung at the clubhouse were the role models he wanted around his little girl. He wanted her to be better. Smarter. He wanted her to grow up believing, down to her core, she was more than her body.
Alexia Torres was certainly more than her body. As far as he could tell, she was as smart and quick-witted as she was gorgeous. It would have been a lie to say he didn’t want her lithe body in his bed, but that wasn’t all he hoped to uncover.
If the mediation the next morning went his way, he planned on celebrating over a drink with his attorney that night.
If he was lucky, their attorney-client privilege would take on a whole new meaning.
But her silence made him uneasy. He hadn’t forgotten about finding Rocco in her office on Monday afternoon. She said it was her brother in trouble, but if Rocco was barking up her tree, trouble had found her, too. Wrangler saw how she hadn’t cowered in the presence of the town’s highest ranked member in Alvarez’s cartel, but Rocco left empty handed.
Wrangler knew better than to think there wasn’t the possibility the man would be back.
“Hey—I know you’re no Tom Cruise inCocktail, but would it kill you to pour a beer?” asked Phoenix.
Wrangler looked at the petite redhead with a lazy smile, his phone still in his hand.
It didn’t matter that she probably weighed a buck-twenty soaking wet, she wasn’t afraid to throw her snarky attitude at any man, whether he was twice her size or not. She always had a fire in her belly and a knife on her hip, which was why she’d been the perfect fit as the bar manager for Steel Mustang. All the patrons knew better than to mess with her—the Stallions included.
When he didn’t have his kids, Wrangler worked nights at the biker bar on the compound. While Stallion Motors and the neighboring auto-parts store were owned and operated by the club, Mustang owned more than half of the bar. Running it was his passion, and he was damn good at it. The respect Wrangler had for his brother and the success of the bar was a major reason why he opted to put in the extra hours of work. Most of the time, he was the muscle at the door. Occasionally, when Mustang or Phoenix needed him behind the bar, he did what he could—which consisted mostly of serving beers or straight shots of liquor.
He let Rodeo and Phoenix handle the rest.
Fortunately, there weren’t a lot of guys belling up to the bar asking for cosmos.
“My bad.”
He glanced at his last sent text once more then blacked out his screen, pocketed the phone, and went back to filling beer orders. He’d give it another hour, then he’d reach out to make sure she was okay. He didn’t know Alexia well enough to be convinced her behavior was off.
Though, where Rocco was concerned, he’d have been an idiot not to worry.
The crowd was about average that night—business steady but manageable with a bunch of regulars, as was usually the case on a weeknight. It was no secret, the bar made most of its money Friday and Saturday, when Mustang curated the best line up of bands.
The crew on stage was local talent that played most Thursdays. Mustang was good about consistently ensuring the only music at his bar was of the live variety, which was why it was so popular amongst bikers and non-bikers alike.
Thursday was usually the boss’ night off. When he walked in just after eight-thirty, Wrangler wasn’t the only one surprised.
“What are you doing here?” asked Rodeo as Mustang strolled through the bar’s swinging door.
Phoenix glanced over her shoulder and playfully batted her eyelashes. “Gee, did you miss us?”
“MK’s bedtime was thirty minutes ago, and Tess’ll be knocked out in about fifteen. Who knew makin’ a baby could be so exhausting?”
“I don’t know, maybe every woman who’s ever had a baby ever?” Phoenix guffawed.
