Page 10 of Ridin' Free
It was Brittany Blue with whiskey, diamond stitched, leather seats. It had a black soft-top I took off whenever the weather was nice and I was aching for a long drive. It was vintage, custom, and badass. It was me. Or, at least, the part of me I let the world see.
I purchased the beauty fully refurbished as a birthday gift to myself when I turned thirty-two. I’d been at Steel Mustang four years by then, and I had the money to splurge—so I did. Since Mustang hired me on, I’d been able to afford a lot of things to make my life more comfortable.
Though, I didn’t require much.
A home to call my own, a ride that could take me anywhere, and the freedom to roam.
Still, the bar drew in a crazy amount of business, my boss was generous, and my bank accounts were proof.
It was eleven o’clock when I pulled onto the compound and parked at the back of the bar’s lot. I was the first to arrive, as was usually the case. I preferred to handle inventory on my own, before any of the guys showed up. It was the only time the place was quiet, and it was kind of nice, getting lost in the routine of my task.
At nearly one o’clock, I’d just submitted that week’s order in the system when I heard Rodeo stroll in. Like most of the Stallions, he was good people. Other than Mustang, he was also my favorite bartender with whom I worked. He was fast, efficient, and he could smooth talk any drunk bitch who wanted to start something out of actually starting something.
He wasn’t my type—blonde hair, blue eyes, and a baby face still hanging on even at twenty-seven—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t see the appeal.
“Yo,” he greeted from the office doorway.
He had a hand on either side of the frame as he leaned into the small room and jerked his chin at me.
“Need anything?”
That was another reason why I liked Rodeo.
Those three words were always his first.
“Couple of the kegs need replacing. Saved ‘em for ya,” I teased with cheeky smile.
I’d learned how to get by without needing a man. I might have been small, but I was stubborn as hell. Still—replacing kegs was a pain in the ass, and I wasn’t afraid to pass it off to one of the guys.
I was the bar manager, after all.
He grinned, and I could almost see the Adonis he was.
“On it,” he assured me, clapping a hand against the doorframe two times before he pushed himself straight and disappeared down the hall.
With only an hour before our doors opened, it was time for me to start bar prep. I turned on the overhead sound system—which would stream classic rock until our live Wednesday talent showed up for their set—and then headed for the back fridge to gather fruit.
Behind the bar, I sliced lemons, limes, and oranges while Rodeo replaced the kegs, filled up the ice chest, and double-checked our liquor stash. Wednesdays and Thursdays weren’t usually too busy. It was a well-known fact our weekends were what drew a relentless crowd, but the bar was never empty. Even with the clubhouse just a few yards away, where the booze was self-serve and always on the house, there were plenty of Stallions belling up to the bar night after night.
And they weren’t the only ones.
It was one of my favorite things about Steel Mustang. It may have been a biker bar, but its doors were open to anyone who could hold their liquor and cover their tab at last call. The live music was always its biggest draw, and Mustang had great taste. In six years, he hadn’t let a band on stage who didn’t know how to rock.
“Shit. I almost forgot,” muttered Rodeo as he turned to address me.
I was stocking pint glasses in the mini fridge and glanced up at him from where I was crouched. He was wearing a tight white tee-shirt underneath his kutte, road-worn jeans, and—as always—a pair of black cowboy boots.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothin’—I forgot to tell you, I finished that book you recommended a little while back. The FBI one. Took me aminute to get into it. Between that ride I had last week and the weddin’, I’ve been busy—but I gotta say, I get the hype.”
Contrary to what he looked like, Rodeo was a book junkie in disguise.
“Mmhmm,” I hummed with a broad smile and a nod. “And when have I ever steered you wrong, blondie?”
He chuckled, unable to argue with me. “Have you picked up the latest Sanderson, yet?”
“I’ve got it. Haven’t started it,” I answered as I went on to finish my task. “You?”
