Page 19 of Rider Daddies
For a repeat of last night.
“Leave us, Ryder,” I snap.
Pot…kettle…black. I’m just as possessive around Lacey as he is. The only difference is that I’m unwilling to admit it.
“Okay,” I say, guiding her over to the taps. “The glasses are above your head behind you. There’s a footstool behind the bar somewhere if you have trouble reaching.”
“Or,” Ryder says. “Feel free to ask me.”
I hate that Lacey is still looking at him.
She turns her bright hazel eyes over to me. I swear I could explode in my pants right this second. “How do you work the taps?”
I frown. “You don’t know?”
She shakes her head, teeth sinking deep into her bottom lip. “I know, I’m pathetic at all of this.”
I guide her over and take her hand, placing mine over the top. “Always pour at an angle for beer. That way, you don’t get too much foam.” I crank the tap and we watch together as it shoots out. “Pull it back for a minute. Let it settle.”
She grabs the tap, pulling back hard.
“Okay.” I raise the glass to the light. “See how the white foam is settling? Wait until it’s the same width as your forefinger, and then go again.”
I place the glass back under the tap and let her do the rest, standing behind her for “guidance.” Even though her ass is hidden underneath her dress, I still somehow feel it, warm and round against my erect cock.
I clench my jaw.
Does she feel it too?
Suddenly, she backs her hips into me as she pulls away, serving the beer to Ryder. He takes a long sip, watching her eyes the entire time.
All I can do is roll my eyes.
“Perfect, sweetheart.” He wipes the foam from his lips. “Like you.”
“Ugh,” Lacey says. “Don’t lie. It’s all air in that glass. I’m useless.”
“You’re not useless,” I assure her.
She twirls around, arms crossed over her chest. I’m unsure if this is deliberate or not, but the folded arms make her breasts look even more prominent. “You’re just saying that because you want to get into my pants.” She hitches her eyebrow at Ryder. “You might as well be honest about it. It’s so glaringly obvious.”
Ryder and I share a look.
She sets her hands on her hips, changing the tone. “I forgot to thank you earlier, by the way.”
“The job is no problem, really,” I insist.
“No, not that. The other thing. I appreciate you sticking up for me this morning during your meeting. I get it—you’re the sort of guys that have your cake and eat it, and then move on to the next. You don’t have any loyalties to me. You didn’t need to stick up for me, but you did.”
I study her face. She’s right. The Venom Vultures clubhouse isn’t exactly a love shack that breeds healthy relationships. Nobody mingles here in hopes of finding their life partner. The club’s slogan might as well be “dopamine.” Everything is a quick fix, and that indeed involves Lacey.
“It was me,” Ryder says.
Lacey gives him a smile.
Enough of the nice guy act. “The only reason Ryder does the things he does is because he can’t share,” I tell her.
“Hey.” His face turns bitter.
